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272 |
The Song Book |
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CCXI FULL HIGH IN KILLBRIDE |
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or - phan be - dew'd.
Where Boyne's silver tide sweetly murmuring flows,
The rich yellow harvest luxuriantly grows;
But never again shall the stranger repair
The fruits it shall yield in thy mansion to share.
The tones of the harp in that mansion have ceas'd, No more it resounds with the mirth of the feast; But each gentle bosom for thee breathes a sigh, And tears of affection obscure each bright eye. |
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