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I set off this morning |
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Down the road along the river |
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Which I take but once a year |
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My walk will take me by the shore |
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Then inland for a mile or more |
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From the cold sea spray |
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A small wood stands upon the hill |
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An old house near it lies in ruins |
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Forgotten long ago |
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And here in a clearing, overgrown with moss and ivy |
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Is your lonely grave |
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At dusk I will make my way |
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Along the lanes and through the fields |
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To where my cottage is |
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But before I step inside for bed |
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I'll look up at the stars as we had |
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All those years ago |
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So here's for Uncle Pat |