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MAY MORNING DEW How pleasant in winter to sit by the hob Listening to the sounds and the bark of a dog Or in summer to wander the wide valleys through And to pick the wild flowers in the May morning dew Summer is coming, Oh, Summer is near With the leaves on the trees and the sky blue and clear And the small birds are singing their fond notes so true And the wild flowers are springing in the May morning dew The house I was born in is but a stone on a stone And all round the garden the weeds they have grown And all the fine neighbours that ever I knew Like the red rose have perished in the May morning dew. God be with the old folk, they are all dead and gone And likewise my brothers, young Denis and John As we tripped thrugh the heather, wild hares to pursue Our joys they did mingle in the May morning dew @Irish filename[ MAYMRNDW MR apr97 |
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