| Just before the break of dawn, I saddled up my fine grey mare
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| In search of my beloved, I rode to the gypsy fair
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| I looked in every caravan, many maidens I did find
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| But she was not amongst them, The dearest love of mine
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| There’s a fire in the forest, a ghost out in the pines
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| Two ravens by the river, a mournful moon that shines
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| And when I think of her, I fall into despair
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| For my beloved, At the gypsy fair
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| Can anybody tell me, please? |
| my darling can be found?
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| Tell me is she dead, Or does she walk upon the ground?
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| Words are whispered every, Words are spoken highlow
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| But the truth about my own true love, They wouldn’t let me know
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| I rode into the forest dark, I came upon two ravens black
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| They said to me that I would never, Get my true love back
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| She was taken by the reverend, brought out here, she was burned
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| But they whisper out here in these woods, say she has returned |