| I was walking down a quiet road in Ireland
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| Out beneath those tough old ancient stars
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| When I thought I heard old Scottish Mike singing Carrick Fergus
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| As I recalled those wild days in those loud Norwegian bars
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| He’d sing, «I'm drunk today and I’m rarely sober,
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| Like a soldier on the road to Mandalay.»
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| Well the road it gave him wine
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| and the women fair and fine
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| He drunk himself to death, I heard today
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| But we’ll sing hallelujah, sing it in the morning
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| And thank the Lord for giving us one more day
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| And for the one’s that have passed on through
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| We’ll sing this one for you
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| The road it gives and the road it takes away
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| My baby said she didn’t mind me travelin'
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| She enjoyed the time alone when I was gone
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| Til she looked me in the eyes and said it’s over
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| And I saw the anger buried far too long
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| I picked up my guitar and sang the Dutchman
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| About two people whose love had seen kinder days
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| But my baby she was gone,
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| before the song was sung
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| Well my music never touched her anyway
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| But we’ll sing hallelujah, sing it in the morning
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| And thank the Lord for giving us one more day
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| And for the one’s that have passed on through
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| We’ll sing this one for you
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| The road it gives and the road it takes away
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| The road it gives and the road it takes away
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| The road it gives and the road it takes away |