....and life is breathed into the sleeping corpse............! Okay, I will quickly say how I sing this and apply the folk process sandpaper.. '..the POWER of passion's PLEDGE.' '..OF ARTIST'S HONED and who have known,..'(cuts out the known/known problem and scans) '..When the angel woos the clay he'll loose, (PAUSE)..his wings aaat the dawn(PAUSE)of day-yy' >>'Dark-Haired Miriam'(MuddleC's arrangement)(Unaccompanied) On Raglan Road OF an autumn day, I met her first and knew That her dark hair would weave a snare, that I might one day rue; I saw the danger, yet I walked , along the enchanted way, And I said, let grief be a fallen leaf, at the dawning of the day. On Grafton Street in November, we tripped lightly along the ledge Of A deep ravine where can be seen, the POWER of passion's pledge, The Queen of Hearts still making tarts and I not making hay - O I loved too much, and by such and such, is happiness thrown away. I gave her gifts of the mind, I gave her the secret sign OF ARTIST'S HONED and who have known, the true gods of sound and stone And word and tint, I did not stint for I gave her poems to say. With her own name there and her long dark hair like clouds over fields of May On a quiet street, where old ghosts meet, I see her walking now Away from me so hurriedly, my reason must allow That I had wooed not as I should, a creature made of clay - When the angel woos the clay he'll loose, his wings at the dawn of day. Original version by Patrick Kavanagh I'll get my coat
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