| Fair is my Morag, my maiden, my Morag
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| My tender young Morag that lives in yon glen
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| I dream of my Morag, dream-wander wi' Morag
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| Where leaps the brown burn from the mist on the ben
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| Where leaps the brown burn from the mist on the ben
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| Sweet as hill water, cool waters, hill waters
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| My maiden, my Morag, asleep in yon glen
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| And cool as the water, like the rush of a river
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| Comes this dream to my hot heart, parch’d dry as the plain
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| This dream to my hot heart, parch’d dry as the plain
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| For fair is my Morag, my maiden, my Morag
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| My lovely young Morag that lives in yon glen
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| And dreaming of Morag, dream-wand'ring wi' Morag
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| I hear the stream sing again beneath the cold ben
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| I hear the stream sing again beneath the cold ben |