| Long I’ve roamed lands which are not mine
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| Admired Cappadocia, enjoyed Greek wine
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| Tea at the Bosporus, travelled the river Rhine
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| Heard the Lorelei sing, a song divine
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| My grave is easily found
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| And there I shall gladly be
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| Buried in the shadow
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| Beneath my cypress tree
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| My spirit travelled The Highlands
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| The North Sea taught me humbleness
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| My mind got drunk by the beauty of France
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| In Bretagne and Ireland a Celtic dance
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| My grave is easily found
|
| And there I shall gladly be
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| Buried in the shadow
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| Beneath my cypress tree
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| No trace of Helen at the remains of Troy
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| But her glorious beauty shining through
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| On many a gracious peasant girl
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| In picturesque villages far below
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| Winds of Galicia, mountains of Spain
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| Portuguese valleys, English domain
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| Skandinavia, Alexandria
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| Passion for wandering, impossible to restrain
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| My grave is easily found
|
| And there I shall gladly be
|
| Buried in the shadow
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| Beneath my cypress tree
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| When my time on earth is over
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| And my journey has come to an end
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| Remembering the white cliffs of Dover
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| Or the breeze of our Lowlands
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| Of our Lowlands |