| I was born on the holy ground
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| A running child in fields of clover
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| I was living in the grandeur
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| Of my father’s land
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| Mmm…
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| By the side of the swirling sea
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| I spent the days of childish wonder
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| And the rocks I held in my young hands
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| I never felt them slip away
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| Well the sun shone bright upon the waves
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| And the wind blew high as I was leaving
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| And I sailed so far away
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| Looking for adventure
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| Mmm…
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| But I would not stay where the city streets
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| Proclaimed so loudly man’s endeavours
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| Though music is a pretty thing
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| In fine company
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| And the wilderness took my breath away
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| I felt I had to find my way
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| Where no-one ever goes
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| Mmm…
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| It was in the south that my new home lay
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| With a dark eyed boy and wild horses
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| With humming birds and roses there
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| In old Mexico
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| There the winds of change they blew so far
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| Of liberty and revolution
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| And it seemed that each man heard in his breast
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| The drumming of a nation
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| Mmm…
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| Repeat the first verse |