| Willie And Mary
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| As Willie and Mary met by the seaside
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| A long farewell for to take
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| Said Mary to Willie, «If you go away
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| I’m afraid my poor heart, it might break»
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| «Oh don’t be afraid, dearest Mary,"he said
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| As he clasped his fond maid to his side
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| «In my absence don’t mourn, for when I return
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| I will make you, sweet Mary, my bride»
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| Seven long years had passed and no word at last
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| Mary stood by her own cottage door
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| A beggar came by with a patch on his eye
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| Bedraggled and ragged and tore
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| «Your charity, fair maid, bestow upon me
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| Your fortune I’ll tell you beside
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| Your lad that you mourn will never return
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| To make little Mary his bride»
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| She slipped and she started, saying, «All that I have
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| It’s freely to you I will give
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| If you tell me true what I now ask of you
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| Is my Willie dead or alive?»
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| «He's living,"said he, «though in sad poverty
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| And shipwrecked he has been beside
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| When he’d money untold and pockets of gold
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| He’d have made little Mary his bride»
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| «Then if he is dead, no other I’ll wed
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| No other I’ll have by my side
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| For in riches though rolled or covered with gold
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| He’d have made his own Mary his bride»
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| Then the patch off his eye the old beggar let fly
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| His old coat and crutches beside
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| And in sailor’s blue clothes and with cheeks like the rose
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| It was Willie who stood by her side
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| «Oh don’t be afraid, dearest Mary,"he said
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| «It was only your faith that I tried
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| To the church we’ll away by the break of the day
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| And I’ll make little Mary my bride» |