| Born in your town on this young morning
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| Oh certainly I have good luck coming
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| Sadly sadly have I mourned making heavy my burden
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| Such toils to entwine me
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| No more to endure them
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| A lover is to me she is my companion
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| Six strings at my hand to the morning I tuned them
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| Oh warm room I have and a warm place for sleeping
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| Black coffee to waken me
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| No more to be dreaming
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| The wings of the albatross long since I saw him
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| The hair of the goats as they walk to the island
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| In the hands of the watchers a page is turned over
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| And the echoes flow on rippling on
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| On the face of the river
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| What would I wish for if wishing were having
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| In the streets of your town I see nothing worth stealing
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| For autumn speaks leaves to the lost deeps forever
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| And the clouds echo on echoing on
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| On the face of the river |