| I saw your daughter yesterday
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| As I was idle on the porch
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| She slept-walked from your house down the walkway
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| As though she’d done it all before
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| And the moon was out
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| And in her gown beside the riverbed
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| She got down on her knees
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| And wrapped her long hair up in vines, and leaves, and branches
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| And with the wind beneath her feet
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| Oh, she waltzed with the dead
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| And everything was bathed
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| In light white as milk
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| As the impossible began
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| She danced across the water’s edge
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| But her feet, they didn’t sink
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| As though she flew
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| I ran out in the water
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| With a lantern in my hand
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| I was waste deep and shivering
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| I took her wrist and walked her in I was loathe to interrupt her
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| But I had to get her home
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| If people were to see thisthey’d gather up, raise hell and burn her alive
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| Don’t you mind, don’t you mind
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| She’ll be fine
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| Tie a bell around her ankle
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| Before she lays down at night
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| And the sound of her footsteps
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| Will wake me in time
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| Don’t you mind, don’t you mind
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| I’ll watch over her
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| As though she were mine |