| The streams of lovely Nancy are divided in three parts,
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| Where young men and maidens meet their long sweethearts,
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| It is drinking of good liquor that has caused my heart to sing,
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| And the noise in yonder village made the rocks ring.
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| At the bottom of this mountain runs a river clear,
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| A ship from the Indes did once anchor here,
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| With her red flags a’flying and the beating of her drum,
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| With sweet instruments of music and the firing of her gun.
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| At the bottom of this mountain where the birds do fly,
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| There is one amoungst them that flies so very high,
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| If I had her in my arms near the diamond’s cold black land,
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| How soon I’d secure her by the kindness of my hands.
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| So come all you little streamers that walk the meadows gay,
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| Go write unto your love wherever she may lay,
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| With her rosy lips entice me and her tongue she tells me no
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| But the angels might direct us wherever we should go. |