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DAUGHTER OF McLEOD (Robin Williams) Her father's name it was McLeod. He owned some land up in Jericho. And she had no gold to make her proud. She made her clothes out of calico. And the simple things that people seek, They were not hard for her to find, For treasures fall upon the meek While others are left crying. And the months that passed, oh-oh-oh they seemed like days. We tilled the land and we filled the halls, And the years they came and they went with haste, And we never were alone. She took sick late last winter. She said nothing of the pain, But I knew the will that she had in her Never heard her once complain. And we laid her down in her grave About a half a month ago, With a pretty smile upon her face And her golden hair a-flow. And her father's name it was McLeod. He owned some land up in Jericho. And she had no gold to make her proud. She made her clothes out of calico. She made her clothes out of calico. She made her clothes out of calico. Recorded by Robin and Linda Williams on "Close As We Can Get," Flying Fish FF 327, 1984. @death @poverty filename[ DMCLEOD PS |
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