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Londonderry Air
Old Irish Air
Would God
I were the tender

Apple blossom
That floats and
Falls from off

The twisted
Bough,
To lie and faint
Within your

Silken bosom,
Within your
Silken bosom

As that
Does now!
Or would I
Were a little

Burnish'd apple
For you to
Pluck me,

Gliding by
50 cold.
While sun and
Shade your robe

Of lawn will
Dapple,
Your robe of
Lawn and your

Hair's spun
Gold.
Yea, would to
God I were

Among the roses
That lean to
Kiss you as you

Float between
While on the
Lowest branch

A bud uncloses,
A bud uncloses
To touch you,

Queen
Nay, since you
Will not love,
Would I were
Growing a happy

Daisy in the
Garden path,
That so your
Silver foot might

Press me going,
Might press me
Going even

Unto death!
Londonderry Air

Old Irish Air
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Title
Londonderry Air (Old Irish Air)
Artist
Irish
Brand
Pocket Songs
Code
MMO4010-11