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IT'S ABSENCE MAKES US FONDEST.
It's absence makes us fondest; That we best understand,
And that's why we
"Who roam the sea We dearliest love the land ; You landsmen can't be feeling How this our home endears
To see it rise
To sea-tost eyes It has not met for years.
And as with land with loving; With us it's ever been
That doubly kind
We, sailors, find The dear ones seldom seen;