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O Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling. From Glen to glen, and down
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the mountain side. The Summers gone, and all the roses falling. It's you,
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It's you, must go and I must bide. But come ye back, when summers in the
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meadow. Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow. It's I'll be here
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in sunshine or in shadow. O Danny boy, O danny boy, I love you so.
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