| There was a maiden, young and sweet
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| Whose parents left her all alone;
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| Being one year old, she was laid
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| Down on a bed of cold, grey stone
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| How she survived nobody knew
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| For the wood was so dark and cold
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| But growing up she learned the truth
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| And got a heart, as pure as gold
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| And every time she ran through the meadows
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| And everytime she sang a song
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| There was this silvery light all around her
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| Everywhere she came along
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| She did not fear the howling wolves
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| She did not fear the blackest night
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| They were the family she’d lost
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| So she grew up in nature’s might
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| The only thing that frightened her
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| Was when she heard the hunter’s shot
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| And every time this cruel man came
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| There was a rain of tears and blood
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| And every time she cried for the fallen
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| And everytime he killed a deer
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| Oh, how she cried her hot, bitter tears
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| Everytime this man was near
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| So she did love and she did hate
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| And grew a woman, wise and old;
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| She lived life in a wonderland
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| With so much magic to behold
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| She knew the wood, she knew the wolves
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| She knew the deers, they all were one
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| They played with owls and unicorns
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| But then one day the girl was gone
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| And then it rained as if heaven was crying
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| For the wood´s lady now was dead;
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| So the beasts carried her to her meadows
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| And in full bloom was her last bed |