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Bonnie Black Bess |
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And brave, thou must die,
My dumb friend,
Though it does me distress,—
There! There! I have shot thee,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
In after years
iWhen I am dead and gone,
This story will be handed
From father to son;
My fate some will pity,
And some will confess
'Twas through kindness I killed thee,
My Bonnie Black Bess.
No one can e'er say That ingratitude dwelt In the bosom of Turpin,—> 'Twas a vice never felt. I will die like a man And soon be at rest; Now, farewell forever, My Bonnie Black Bess. |
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