| I’ll sing you this October song,
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| Oh, there is no song before it.
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| The words and tune are none of my own,
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| For my joys and sorrows bore it.
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| Beside the sea
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| The brambly briars in the still of evening,
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| Birds fly out behind the sun,
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| And with them I’ll leavng.
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| The fallen leaves that jewel the ground,
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| They know the art of dying,
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| And leave with joy their glad gold hearts,
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| In the scarlet shadows lying.
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| When hunger calls my footsteps home,
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| The morning follows after,
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| I swim the seas within my mind,
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| And the pine-trees laugh green laughter.
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| I sed to search for happiness,
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| And I used to follow pleasure,
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| But I found a door behind my mind,
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| And that’s the greatest treasure.
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| For rulers like to lay down laws,
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| And rebels like to break them,
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| And the poor priests like to walk in chains,
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| And God likes to forsake the.
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| I met a man whose name was Time,
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| And he said, «I must be goin,»
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| But just how long that was,
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| I have no way of knowing.
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| Sometimes I want to murder time,
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| Sometimes when my heart’s aching,
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| But mostly I just stroll along,
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| The path that he is taking. |