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A boy once roamed into the woods, |
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His cheek was smooth and bright, |
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He lost his way in woods of fay |
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And was not home by night. |
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The village folk turned out and searched |
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From dawn till day was sped, |
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But since they found no trace of him |
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They gave him up as dead. |
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Now after seven years had passed |
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One morning it befell |
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That he was seen beyond the green |
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And heading toward the well. |
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They asked him who he was and stared, |
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His face seemed strange and dim. |
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His parents both were gone and no |
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One else remembered him. |
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"A while ago I lost the path |
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And walked in woods of fay, |
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I came in time to feast with them, |
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But soon was sent away. |
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The people there are white as snow |
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And they have golden locks, |
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These are their words for sun and moon, |
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For valleys, hills, and brooks." |
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They laughed: "This early in the day |
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He can't be full of wine!" |
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They said that he was mad and made |
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Him keeper of their kine. |
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So every day he fared afield |
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And sat upon a stone, |
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And late into the night he sang, |
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They left him quite alone. |
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And only children heard his song |
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And often sat beside, |
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They sang it far into the years, |
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Long after he had died. |