| I’m a going way to leave you, love
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| I’m going away for awhile
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| But I’ll return to you sometimes
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| If I go 10, 000 miles
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| The storms are on the ocean
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| The heavens may cease to be
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| The world may lose its motion, love
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| If I prove false to thee
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| Oh, who will dress your pretty little feet
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| And who will glove your hand
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| Oh who will kiss your rosy red cheeks
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| When I’m in a far off land
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| The storms are on the ocean
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| The heavens may cease to be
|
| This world may lose its motion, love
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| If I prove false to thee
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| Oh, have you seen those mournful doves
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| Flying from pine to pine
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| A mourning for their own true love
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| Just like I mourn for mine
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| Oh, Papa will dress my pretty little feet
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| And Mama will glove my hand
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| And you can kiss my rosy red cheeks
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| When you return again
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| Oh, the storms are on the ocean
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| And the heavens may cease to be
|
| This world may lose its motion, love
|
| If I prove false to thee |