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- Oh fate let me go to the land O was born in,
I am weary from care in this land far away,
For forty long years I have missed in the mornin'
The song of the skylark announcing the day.
I would roam through the meadows where daffodils flourish.
And tread all the pathways grown dim by the years.
On the grave of my mother the daisies I'd nourish
How fondly I'd moisten them all with my tears.
Oh blame not the exile, if all his devotion.
He lavishes first on the scenes that(continues on next page)Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.