| The river winds 'round these little green hills
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| And stays in the woods for days
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| We were built to consider the unmanifested
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| And make of love an immaculate place
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| I hear a smile and a tear in you voice
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| Don’t lay the groundwork for a case of remorse
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| When you feel that first ice cold twist in the wind
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| I’ll come back the way that I came
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| Shot of dixie hemlock will take care of the pain
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| Now a man keeps his money folded square in his pocket
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| And doesn’t take everything that he could
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| He’ll rise like a lion and line himself up
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| With the poor, the fair, and the good
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| When you feel that first ice cold twist in the wind
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| Will you hang a lamp at the end of the lane?
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| Black-eyed Susans from the Maryland shore
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| We’ll trim back the thorns around the hospital door
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| More will be seen than will be understood
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| Go with the poor, the fair, and the good
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| The poor, the fair, and the good |