| I was born beside this river
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| 'Bout a half a mile from here
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| But I never seemed to notice
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| That the water ran this clear
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| And I’ve never seen that color green
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| Sparkle down the glen
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| Now I’ll never pass this way again
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| I have wandered through that orchard
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| And played among her trees
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| But I’ve never heard the secrets
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| That she whispers in the breeze
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| For the only sound on hallowed ground
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| Is the silence of the men
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| Who will never pass this way again
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| It never shone as beautiful
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| As how it looks today
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| We never miss the things we love
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| 'Til they go away
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| But I have heard the bugler’s call
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| And it’s time for me to leave
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| For there comes a day
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| When a man must say
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| I will die for what I believe
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| I have often thrown my pennies
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| In that old wishing well
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| And if I had a penny
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| I would wish me a spell
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| I would kneel and pray
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| That here I’d stay
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| Forever Amen
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| But I’ll never pass this way
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| No I’ll never pass this way
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| No I’ll never pass this way again |