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Can you tell me what happened to the blossom |
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The blackberry blossom when summertime came |
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The blackberry blossom, well the last time I saw one |
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Was down in the bramble where I rambled in the spring |
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The bramble was wild, I was torn by the briers |
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My love, he wooed me as I lie there |
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With a flower in my hair and my cheeks aflush |
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It was a blackberry blossom from the blackberry bush |
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When I picked a berry I didn't miss the blossom |
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The blackberry blossom was white as the snow |
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But the berry that it brings is sweeter than molasses |
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And black as the wings of an Arkansas crow |
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The Arkansas crow is a devil and a demon |
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Known for his cackling and his screaming |
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Driving away the swallow and the thrush |
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From the blackberry blossom and the blackberry bush |
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I was picking berries when that crow flew above me |
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Carrying my lover's soul far away |
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Now each spring I lay a blackberry blossom |
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By a cold gravestone on the Arkansas clay |
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The Arkansas clay is rocky and hard |
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With weeds grown over in the old graveyard |
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And the day settles down to an evening hush |
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Over the blackberry blossom and the blackberry bush |