| May I sleep in your barn tonight, mister?
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| It’s so cold lying out on the ground;
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| And the cold north winds to the whistling,
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| And I have no place to lie down.
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| Now I have no tobacco or matches,
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| And I’m sure I would cause you no harm;
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| I will tell you my story, kind mister,
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| For it runs through my heart like a storm.
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| It was three years ago last summer,
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| I shall never forget that sad day,
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| When a stranger came out from the city,
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| And he said that he wanted to stay.
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| Now this stranger was fair, tall and handsome,
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| And he looked like a man who had wealth;
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| And he wanted to stay in the country,
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| Said he wanted to stay for his health.
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| Then one night as I came from my workshop,
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| I was whistling and singing with joy;
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| I expected a kind-hearted welcome,
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| From my sweet loving wife and my boy.
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| Oh. |
| but what did I find but a letter,
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| It was placed in my room on the stand;
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| And the moment my eyes fell upon it,
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| Why I take it right up in my hands.
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| Now this note said my wife and the stranger,
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| They had left and have taken my son;
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| Oh, I wonder if God up in heaven,
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| Only knows what this stranger has done."
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| May I sleep in your barn tonight, mister?
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| It’s so cold lying out on the ground;
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| And the cold north winds to the whistling,
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| And I have no place to lie down. |