| When you travel to the green hills of Ayr
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| Where the sea breaks windows on the border line.
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| Remember me to a girl who lives there,
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| For she once was a true love of mine.
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| Please see for me that her red hair is long,
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| And flows and curls down her back and breast.
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| Please see for me that her red hair is long,
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| For that’s the way I remember her the best.
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| See that she’s warm when the summer ends
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| When the trees are bare and the rivers freeze
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| She washes clothes where the river bends
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| She’s working on her knees.
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| See for me that her coat’s pulled up close,
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| And her beret frames her sweet pretty face.
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| See that she’s warm and drink her a toast
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| For I am exiled in a lonely place.
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| Please let me know if she remembers me at all,
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| A hundred times I’ve hoped and prayed
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| That way up there near the Roman wall
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| She didn’t suffer when the fall-out sprayed.
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| North Country girl. |