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作曲 : Andrew James Marshall |
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There's deer upon the mountain, |
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There's sheep along the glen, |
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The forests hum with feather, |
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But where are now the men? |
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Here's but my mother's garden |
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Where soft the footsteps fall, |
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My folk are quite forgotten, |
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But the nettle's over all. |
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(The friends are all departed,) |
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(The hearth-stone is black and cold,) |
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(And sturdy grows the nettle) |
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(On the place beloved of old.) |
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O! black might be that ruin |
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Where my fathers dwelt so long, |
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And nothing hide the shame of it, |
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The ugliness and wrong; |
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The cabar and the corner-stone |
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Might bleach in wind and rains, |
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But for the gentle nettle |
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That took such a courtier's pains. |
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(The friends are all departed,) |
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(The hearth-stone is black and cold,) |
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(And sturdy grows the nettle) |
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(On the place beloved of old.) |
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