| I sat within a valley green
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| I sat me with my true love
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| My sad heart strove the two between
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| The old love and the new love
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| The old for her, the new that made
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| Me think on Ireland dearly
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| While soft the wind blew down the glen
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| And gently shook the barley
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| ‘Twas hard the woeful words to frame
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| To break the ties that bound us
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| But harder still to bear the shame
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| Of foreign chains around us
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| And so I said, «The mountain glen
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| I’ll seek at morning early
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| And join the bold united men
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| While soft wind shakes the barley
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| While sad I kissed away her tears
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| My fond arms 'round her flinging
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| The foemen’s shots burst on our ears
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| From out the wildwood ringing
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| A bullet pierced my true love’s side
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| On life’s young spring so early
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| And on my breast in blood she died
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| While soft wind shook the barley
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| But blood for blood without remorse
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| I’ve taken at Oulart Hollow
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| I laid my true love’s clay-cold corpse
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| Where full soon I may follow
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| As 'round her grave I wander drear
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| Noon, night and morning early
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| With breaking heart whene’er I hear
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| The wind that shakes the barley |