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Boys and girls will see in time |
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That they were wrong to go |
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Fires don't burn at home, like they |
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Used to burn, those nights |
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Grew so long |
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The scattering |
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(All the children say) |
|
Will come again |
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(It's taken them away) |
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No seeds to fall |
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(All the children say) |
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No sons to blame |
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As one by one they left home |
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Tired old men |
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Spin tales of when |
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A man could work |
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And hold his head up high |
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Ghosts roam this town |
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With pockets full of rye they'd all fall down |
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But soon their jars all ran dry |
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The scattering |
|
(All the children say) |
|
Will come again |
|
(It's taken them away) |
|
No seeds to fall |
|
(All the children say) |
|
No sons to blame |
|
As one by one they left home |
|
The scattering |
|
(All the children say) |
|
Has come again |
|
(It's taken them away) |
|
No seeds to fall |
|
(All the children say) |
|
Like better days |
|
The scattering |
|
(All the children say) |
|
Has come again |
|
(It's taken them away) |
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But if skies could fall |
|
(All the children say) |
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With harvest rain |
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Then one by one... |
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They'll come home |