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Текст песни "Lass Of The Low Country" |
Traditional
Oh she was a lass from the low countryAnd he was a lord of high degreeBut she loved him oh so tenderlyOh sorrow sing sorrowNow she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nodNo-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
One day when the snow was on the meadShe passed him by on a milk white steed
And she spoke to him low nobody paid no needOh sorrow sing sorrowNow she sleeps in the valley where the wild flowers nodNo-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
Now if you be a lass from the low countryDon't love no man of high degreeFor he don't got a heart or no sympathyOh sorrow sing sorrowNow she sleeps in the valley where wild flowers nodNo-one knows how she loved him but herself and god
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