| Early one mornin' one mornin' in spring
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| To hear the birds whistle the nightingales sing
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| I met a fair maiden who sweetly did sing
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| I’m going to be married next Monday morning
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| How old are you my fair young maid
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| Here in this valley this valley so green
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| How old are you my fair young maid
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| I’m goin' to be sixteen next Monday mornin'
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| Well sixteen years old, that’s too young for to marry
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| So take my advice, five years longer to tarry
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| For marriage brings troubles and sorrows begin
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| So put off your wedding for Monday mornin'
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| You talk like a mad man, a man with no skill
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| Two years I’ve been waiting against my own will
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| Now I’m determined to have my own way
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| And I’m going to be married next Monday mornin'
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| And next Monday mornin' the bells they will ring
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| And my true love will buy me a gay gold ring
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| Also he’ll buy me a new pretty gown
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| To wear at my wedding next Monday mornin'
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| Next Monday night when I go to my bed
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| And I turn round to the man that I’ve wed
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| Around his middle my two arms I will fling
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| And I wish to my soul it was Monday mornin' |