| I’ve been proud of my place, taking the back streets,
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| not an easy thing to do, listen to me now
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| I’ve been out in a crowd, beating the bounds in and
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| It’s never been easy, bough from the willow tree,
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| keeping the birch off me, it’s never been easy
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| Take me walking if you go, round the walls of St. Malo
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| Knights in houses either side, one a secret one a bride
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| tell me stories as we go round the walls of St. Malo
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| I can hear them whispering as the night bird starts to sing
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| I’ve been counting the worms in the woodwork,
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| not an easy thing to do, listen to me now
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| I am humble and know keeping my eyes low but
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| It’s never been easy, bough from the willow tree
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| keeping the birch off me, it’s never been easy
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| Take me walking if you go, round the walls of St. Malo
|
| Knights in houses either side, one a secret one a bride
|
| tell me stories as we go round the walls of St. Malo
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| I can hear them whispering as the night bird starts to sing
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| Take me walking, let me go, round the walls of St. Malo
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| by the window she will stand, broken body in her hand
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| No more song of sweet sorrow, round the walls of St. Malo
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| Bind her heart in golden thread, for her nightingale is dead. |