| There’s a little rosewood casket
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| That is resting on the stand
|
| There’s a package of old letters
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| Written by my loved one’s hand
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| Go and bring them to me, brother
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| Come and sit upon my bed
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| Lay your head upon my pillow
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| While each cherished line is read
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| Read them gently to me, brother
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| Read them 'til I fall asleep
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| For the sleep to wake in heaven
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| Oh dear brother do not weep
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| Last night I saw him walking
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| With a lady by his side
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| And I thought I heard him tell her
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| She could never be his bride
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| When at last I’m gone forever
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| And my friends are gathered round
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| And my narrow grave is ready
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| In some lonesome church yard ground
|
| There’s a little rosewood casket
|
| That is resting on the stand
|
| There’s a package of old letters
|
| Written by my loved one’s hand |