| «It's ten weary years since I left England’s shore,
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| For a distant far country to roam,
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| How I long to return to my own native land,
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| To my friends and the old folks at home.
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| Last night as I slumbered I had a strange dream,
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| A dream that brought distant lands near,
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| I dreamt of old England, the land of my birth,
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| The heart of her sons ever dear.
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| While the joyous bells rang as I wended my way,
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| To the house where I lived as a boy,
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| I passed by the window and there sat by the fire,
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| Were my parents, my heart filled with joy.
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| The log burnt so brightly it was keeping them warm,
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| On a night that could banish all sin,
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| And the bells they were ringing, the old year out,
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| And the new year in.
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| At the door of the house there we stood face to face,
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| For the first time in ten weary years,
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| Soon the past was forgot, and we stood hand in hand,
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| Father, mother and wanderer in tears.
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| And the log burnt so brightly, it was keeping us warm,
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| On a night that would banish all sin,
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| And the bells they were ringing, the old year out,
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| And the new year in.
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| And the bells they were ringing, the old year out,
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| And the new year in. |