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The Song Book |
131 |
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AS I WALKED FORTH |
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Then round the meadow did she walk, Catching each flower by the stalk, Such flowers as in the meadow grew, The dead man's thumb, an herb all blue, And as she pull'd them, still cried she, Alas, alas, none ever lov'd like me.
When she had fill'd her apron full, Of such green things as she could cull, The green leaves serv'd her for a bed, The flow'rs were the pillow for her head : Then down she lay, ne'er more did speak Alas, alas, with love her heart did break.
Tune by Robert Johnson. |
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K 2 |
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