| Can you tell me what happened to the blossom
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| Blackberry blossom when the summertime came?
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| The blackberry blossom, oh the last time I saw one
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| Was down in the bramble where I rambled in the spring
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| The bramble was wild I was torn by the briars
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| My love he wooed me as I lie there
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| With a flower in my hair and my cheeks all flashy
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| Was the blackberry blossom from the blackberry bush
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| When I picked the berry I didn’t miss the blossom
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| The blackberry blossom was white as the snow
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| But the berry that it brings is sweeter than molasses
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| And black as the wings of the Arkansas crow
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| The Arkansas crow is a devil and a demon
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| Known for his cackling and his screaming
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| Driving away the swallow and the thrush
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| From the blackberry blossom and the blackberry bush
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| I was picking berries when that crow flew above me
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| Carrying my lover so far away
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| Now each spring I lay a blackberry blossom
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| By a cold gravestone on the Arkansas clay
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| The Arkansas clay is rocky and hard
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| With weeds growing over in the old graveyard
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| And the day settles down to an evening hush
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| Over the blackberry blossom and the blackberry bush |