| Twas on a bright morning in Summer
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| When I first heard his voice spakin' low
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| As he said to a colleen beside him
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| «Who's that pretty girl milking her cow?»
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| Och many times often ye met me And told me that I should be You darling, Acushla,
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| A Lana Mavourneen, Asuilish machree
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| Purty girl, purty girl,
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| With no on there to show her how
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| The purt, purt, purty girl is now
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| Milking her cow
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| I have not the manners or graces
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| Of the girls in the world where ye move
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| And I have not their beautiful faces
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| But oh, I’ve a heart that can love
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| And if it please ye, I’ll dress me in satin
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| With jewels, jewels in me brow
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| But och, don’t be after forgettin'
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| Your purty girl milking her cow
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| Purty girl, purty cow,
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| I’m sure this song would have never been wrote
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| If the pretty girl hadda been milking her goat
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| But the goat wasn’t feeling well anyhow
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| So the pretty girl was milking her cow.
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| Her cow, her cow…
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| La, la, la, la, la, la…
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| La, la, la la, la, la, la La, la, la, la A purty girl milking her cow! |