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A SHROPSHIRE LAD
I heard the tune he sang me,
And spied his yellow bill;
I picked a stone and aimed it
And threw it with a will:
Then the bird was still.
And spied his yellow bill;
I picked a stone and aimed it
And threw it with a will:
Then the bird was still.
Then my soul within me
Took up the blackbird's strain,
And still beside the horses
Along the dewy lane
It sang the song again:
Took up the blackbird's strain,
And still beside the horses
Along the dewy lane
It sang the song again:
'Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;
The sun moves always west;
The road one treads to labour
Will lead one home to rest,
And that will be the best.'
The sun moves always west;
The road one treads to labour
Will lead one home to rest,
And that will be the best.'
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