| I’m going to dance you round the floor
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| Drink you under the tables
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| Going to take that last flight home
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| To Balivanich in the month of June
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| Go racing up the south ford
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| Turning midnight in the cars
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| Waiting up late with the Greenock girls
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| Single every song that made us
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| You take your message to the waters
|
| And you watch the ripples flow
|
| Now somewhere out on the ocean
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| It says Mary please don’t go
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| We’re going to lie down on the grass
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| Your lipstick in the clover
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| Going the marry Mary in the summertime
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| The Atlantic round our shoulders
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| Skies are dawning ound the Langass Barpa
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| Stopped off at the white bridge waters
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| It’s all crossroads lined with telegraph poles
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| A rise of larksong fills the morning
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| You take your message to the waters
|
| And you watch the ripples flow
|
| Now somewhere out on the ocean
|
| Lies our fear should we grow old
|
| You take your message to the waters
|
| And you watch the ripples flow
|
| Now somewhere out on that ocean
|
| It says Mary please don’t go
|
| And when we’ve wasted all our young years
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| Who’s to say we never tried
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| To live fast and honour our pledges
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| Here we vowed to stay young till we die
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| We drank the life from the last of the bottle
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| We wrote our message out like a prayer
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| Then we threw away the message with all our hearts
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| Then we watched our lives disappear
|
| You take your message to the waters
|
| And you watch the ripples flow
|
| Now somewhere out on that great beyond
|
| Lies our fear should we grow old
|
| You take your message to the waters
|
| And you watch the ripples flow
|
| Now somewhere out on that ocean
|
| It says Mary please don’t go |