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LITTLE JENNY DOW |
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Many are the hearts that have sighed
for her, And many that have sighed in pain, Many that I know would have died for her. And alas, they would have died in vain— Little Jenny Dow neve"r clouds her brow In sorrow o'er a love-lorn swain; With spirits full of glee none so gay as she, As she rambles o'er'the hill and plain. |
By the gushing streamlets, her footsteps
glide, Leaving little prints in the sand; [wide, You'll meet.her in the dale or the woodland Giving life and joy to the land: [heart, Ever may she roam with the same light Ever may she sing with glee; [impart, While the summer days can their beams And summer birds their melody. |
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