| One evening of late as I carelessly strayed
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| I espied a fair maid in deep mourn
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| Asked her the matter, she quickly made answer
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| I am weary from lying alone, alone
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| I am weary from lying alone
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| My comely young damsel come down here alongside me
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| And tell me of the years that have a flown
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| For seven long gone and eleven years around
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| I am weary from lying alone, alone
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| I am weary from lying alone
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| If I got a comely young man who would take me without fortune
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| And make me a wife of his very own
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| For the truth is I’ll say is, I’ll die in despair
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| If I lie any longer alone, alone
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| If I lie any longer alone
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| There’s a neat sweet li’l flower in this garden alongside me
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| Take it away sure it is all but your own
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| For the flower it will fade and so also will the maid
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| For she’s weary from lying alone, alone
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| For she’s weary from lying alone |