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I have cros.s'd the proud Alps, I have sail'd down the Rhone;
And there is no spot
Like the simple cot, And the hill and the valley, I call my own : Tra la la, &.c There the skies are bright, And our hearts are light,
Our bosoms without a fear; For our toil is play, And our sport, the fray
With the mountain Roe, or Deer In the wild, &c. |
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