| It was a cold night and the snow lay 'round
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| I pulled my coat tight against the falling down
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| And the sun was all, and the sun was all down
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| And the sun was all, and the sun was all down
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| I am a poor man, I have not wealth nor fame
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| I have my two hands and a house to my name
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| And the winter’s so, the winter’s so long
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| And the winter’s so, the winter’s so long
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| And all the stars were crashing 'round
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| As I laid eyes on what I’d found
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| It was a white crane, it was a helpless thing
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| Upon a red stain with an arrow in its wing
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| And it called and cried, it called and cried so
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| And it called and cried, it called and cried so
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| And all the stars were crashing 'round
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| As I laid eyes on what I’d found
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| My crane wife, my crane wife
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| My crane wife, my crane wife
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| And how I helped her and I dressed her wounds
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| And how I held her beneath the rising moon
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| And she stood to fly, she stood to fly away
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| She stood to fly, she stood to fly away
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| And all the stars were crashing 'round
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| As I laid eyes on what I’d found
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| My crane wife, my crane wife
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| My crane wife, my crane wife
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| La la, la la la…
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| PART TWO
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| My crane wife arrived at my door in the moonlight
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| All star bright and tongue-tied, I took her in
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| We were married and bells rang sweet for our wedding
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| And our bedding was ready, when we fell in
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| Sound the keening bell and see it’s painted red
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| Soft as fontanelle, the feathers in the thread
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| And all I ever meant to do was to keep you
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| My crane wife, my crane wife, my crane wife
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| We were poorly, our fortunes fading hourly
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| And how she avowed me she could bring it back
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| But I was greedy, I was vain, and I forced her to weaving
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| On a cold loom in a closed room, with down wove
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| Sound the keening bell and see it’s painted red
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| Soft as fontanelle, the feathers in the thread
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| And all I ever meant to do was to keep you
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| My crane wife, my crane wife, my crane wife
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| There’s a bend in the wind and it rakes at my heart
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| There is blood in the thread and it rakes at my heart
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| It rakes at my heart, heart, heart, heart
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| Heart, heart, heart, heart, heart, heart, heart, heart, my crane wife
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| PART THREE
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| And under the boughs unbowed
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| All clothed in a snowy shroud
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| She had no heart so hardened
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| All under the boughs unbowed
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| Each feather, it fell from skin
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| Till threadbare as she grew thin
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| How were my eyes so blinded?
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| Each feather, it fell from skin
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| And I will hang my head, hang my head low
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| And I will hang my head, hang my head low
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| A gray sky, a bitter sting
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| A rain cloud, a crane on wing
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| All out beyond horizon
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| A gray sky, a bitter sting
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| And I will hang my head, hang my head low
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| And I will hang my head, hang my head low
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| And I will hang my head, hang my head low
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| And I will hang my head, hang my head low
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| And I will hang my head, hang my head low
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| And I will hang my head, hang my head low, low, low |