| Oh, the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing,
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| And the corn it ripens fastest when the frost is settling in,
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| And when a woman tells me my face she’ll soon forget,
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| Before we’ll part, I’ll wage a croon, she’s fain to follow’t yet.
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| Oh, the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing,
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| And the swallow skims without a thought as long as it is spring;
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| But when spring goes, and winter blows, my lassie you’ll be fain,
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| For all your pride, to follow me across the stormy main.
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| Oh, the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing,
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| And the bee that flew when summer shone, in winter cannot sting;
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| I’ve seen a woman’s anger melt betwixt the night and morn,
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| Oh it’s surely not a harder thing to tame a woman’s scorn.
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| Oh, never say me farewell here, no farewell I’ll receive,
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| And you shall set me to the stile and kiss and take your leave;
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| I’ll stay until the curlew calls and the martlet takes his wing,
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| Oh, the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing. |