| When the winter of sorrow's keen tempests are blowing |
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| Lays: 16 |
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| High they raised the mast, and spread the white sail to the zephyr |
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| An' hae ye heard the bonnie birds |
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| I was once happy and blest |
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| The Hunter Death |
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| Here mossy fountains pour their cooling wave |
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| Once I saw, in pride of beauty |
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| Come, come away, unto the silent grove |
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| The Bard |
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