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lyrics
One morning, one morning, one morning in May,
I spied a young couple a-making their way.
One was a maiden so tender and fair,
And one was a soldier, a brave volunteer.
“Good morning, good morning, good morning,” said he,
“And where you going, my pretty lady?”
“I am going to the banks of the sea,
To see the water gliding, hear the nightingale sing.”
They hadn’t been walking but a moment or two,
When out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew.
He played it so sweet you could hear the birds sing,
You could hear the water gliding, hear the nightingale sing.
“Pretty soldier, pretty soldier, will you marry me?”
“Oh no, my pretty maiden, this never can be.
I’ve a wife in old England, and children quite three.
Two wives and the army’s too many for me.”
“Pretty maiden, pretty maiden, it’s time to give o’er.”
“Oh no, my pretty soldier, please play one tune more,
For I’d rather hear your fiddle and the sound of one string
Than to see the water gliding, hear the nightingale sing.”
“I’ll go back to old England and stay but one year,
Then I willreturn to thee, my little dear.
But when I return it will be in the spring,
To see the water gliding, hear the nightingale sing.”
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