| Down in the Willow garden
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| Where me and my love did meet
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| As we sat a-courtin'
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| My love fell off to sleep
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| I had a bottle of Burgundy wine
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| My love she did not know
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| So I poisoned that dear little girl
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| On the banks below
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| I drew a sabre through her
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| It was a bloody knife
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| I threw her in the river
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| Which was a dreadful sign
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| My father often told me That money would set me free
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| If I would murder that dear little girl
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| Whose name was Rose Connelly
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| My father sits at his cabin door
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| Wiping his tear-dimmed eyes
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| For his only son soon shall walk
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| To yonder scaffold high
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| My race is run, beneath the sun
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| The scaffold waits for me For I did murder that dear little girl
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| Whose name was Rose Connelly |