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I've heard them lilting at loom and at belting |
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Lasses lilting before dawn of day |
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But now they are silent not gamesome nor gallant |
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The flowers of the town they are all turned away |
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There was laughter and loving in the lanes of an evening |
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Handsome were the boys and the girls they were gay |
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But lost in Flanders by medalled commanders |
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The flowers of the town they are all turned away |
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Cursed be the promise that took our men from us |
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All will be champion if you choose to obey |
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They fought against hunger, now no longer |
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The pride of the man lies as cold as the clay |
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All the women are weary, they've lilted so merry |
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Waiting to marry for a year and a day |
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From owning and earning, from wooing and winning |
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The flowers of the town they are all turned away |
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All turned away |