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Stepping away from your house |
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Wrapped up in a Sunday shroud |
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At Christchurch Christmas knell |
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I'm passing the Liberty Belle |
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And I hear it with such clarity, tolling the ages |
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The old Dublin people that keep it to themselves |
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Let's ring out the Liberty Bell |
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Woman after morning mass |
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Kneeling to her Sunday brass |
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She shines so very well |
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This last of the Liberty belles |
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Her weather-beaten, supple hands are yellowing pages |
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From hymn-books of traders, the songs of buy and sell |
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Let's ring out the Liberty Bell |
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Among the ghosts of market squares |
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As notes die out in freezing air |
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A world is waning in my view |
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I want to save it all for you |
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Out into the living night |
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To sup a little black and white |
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I'll have one for myself |
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And one for the Liberty Bell |
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And one more for the beaten road |
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To kick up the traces |
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Of the old Dublin people that kept it to themselves |
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Let's ring out the Liberty Bell |