| The world was young and no bird sung, And no man wandered the land
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| And the only sound was the restless wind, And the waves that washed on the sand
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| And was there something moving, Like a great bird over the land
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| Was it shining bright in the sunlight, As it silently came down?
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| And did they run, did they run, In the strange hot sun on the lonely edge of
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| the sea
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| Did they stand and look at this lonely world, And wonder what it might be
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| Did they fly, back into the sky?
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| Black as the light of a starless night, Was the cloud that covered the sky
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| And down from the hill, the night was still
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| Where the summer grasses were high
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| And it shone like a light, so the farmer said
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| And it never made a sound
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| And it came in over the valley, And it landed there on the ground
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| Do they come, do they come, When it seems no-one is ever likely to know
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| On the darkened side of some lonely road, Do they stand there watching us go
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| Do they fly, back into the sky? |