Текст песни The Lark in the Morning - Jim McCann
                                                The 
                                                lark 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                morning, 
                                                she 
                                                rises 
                                                off 
                                                her 
                                                nest
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                breast
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                like 
                                                the 
                                                jolly 
                                                ploughboy 
                                                she 
                                                whistles 
                                                and 
                                                she 
                                                sings
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                wings
 
                                    
                                
                                                Oh, 
                                                Roger 
                                                the 
                                                ploughboy, 
                                                he 
                                                is 
                                                    a 
                                                dashing 
                                                blade
 
                                    
                                
                                                He 
                                                goes 
                                                whistling 
                                                and 
                                                singing 
                                                over 
                                                yonder 
                                                green 
                                                blade
 
                                    
                                
                                                He 
                                                met 
                                                with 
                                                pretty 
                                                Susan, 
                                                she's 
                                                handsome 
                                                    I 
                                                declare
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                is 
                                                far 
                                                more 
                                                enticing 
                                                then 
                                                the 
                                                birds 
                                                all 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                air
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                lark 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                morning, 
                                                she 
                                                rises 
                                                off 
                                                her 
                                                nest
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                breast
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                like 
                                                the 
                                                jolly 
                                                ploughboy 
                                                she 
                                                whistles 
                                                and 
                                                she 
                                                sings
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                wings
 
                                    
                                
                                                One 
                                                evening 
                                                coming 
                                                home 
                                                from 
                                                the 
                                                rakes 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                town
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                meadow's 
                                                been 
                                                all 
                                                green 
                                                and 
                                                the 
                                                grass 
                                                had 
                                                been 
                                                cut 
                                                down
 
                                    
                                
                                                If 
                                                    I 
                                                should 
                                                chance 
                                                to 
                                                tumble 
                                                all 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                new 
                                                mown 
                                                hay
 
                                    
                                
                                                "Oh, 
                                                it's 
                                                kiss 
                                                me 
                                                now 
                                                or 
                                                never 
                                                love", 
                                                this 
                                                bonnie 
                                                lass 
                                                did 
                                                say
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                lark 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                morning, 
                                                she 
                                                rises 
                                                off 
                                                her 
                                                nest
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                breast
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                like 
                                                the 
                                                jolly 
                                                ploughboy 
                                                she 
                                                whistles 
                                                and 
                                                she 
                                                sings
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                wings
 
                                    
                                
                                                When 
                                                twenty 
                                                long 
                                                weeks 
                                                they 
                                                were 
                                                over 
                                                and 
                                                were 
                                                past
 
                                    
                                
                                                Her 
                                                mommy 
                                                chanced 
                                                to 
                                                notice 
                                                how 
                                                she 
                                                thickened 
                                                'round 
                                                the 
                                                waist
 
                                    
                                
                                                It 
                                                was 
                                                the 
                                                handsome 
                                                ploughboy, 
                                                the 
                                                maiden 
                                                she 
                                                did 
                                                say
 
                                    
                                
                                                For 
                                                he 
                                                caused 
                                                me 
                                                for 
                                                to 
                                                tumble 
                                                all 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                new 
                                                mown 
                                                hay
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                lark 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                morning, 
                                                she 
                                                rises 
                                                off 
                                                her 
                                                nest
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                breast
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                like 
                                                the 
                                                jolly 
                                                ploughboy 
                                                she 
                                                whistles 
                                                and 
                                                she 
                                                sings
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                wings
 
                                    
                                
                                                Here's 
                                                    a 
                                                health 
                                                to 
                                                y'all 
                                                ploughboys 
                                                wherever 
                                                you 
                                                may 
                                                be
 
                                    
                                
                                                That 
                                                likes 
                                                to 
                                                have 
                                                    a 
                                                bonnie 
                                                lass 
                                                    a 
                                                sitting 
                                                on 
                                                his 
                                                knee
 
                                    
                                
                                                With 
                                                    a 
                                                jug 
                                                of 
                                                good 
                                                strong 
                                                porter 
                                                you'll 
                                                whistle 
                                                and 
                                                you'll 
                                                sing
 
                                    
                                
                                                For 
                                                    a 
                                                ploughboy 
                                                is 
                                                as 
                                                happy 
                                                as 
                                                    a 
                                                prince 
                                                or 
                                                    a 
                                                king
 
                                    
                                
                                                The 
                                                lark 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                morning, 
                                                she 
                                                rises 
                                                off 
                                                her 
                                                nest
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                breast
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                like 
                                                the 
                                                jolly 
                                                ploughboy 
                                                she 
                                                whistles 
                                                and 
                                                she 
                                                sings
 
                                    
                                
                                                She 
                                                goes 
                                                home 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                evening 
                                                with 
                                                the 
                                                dew 
                                                all 
                                                on 
                                                her 
                                                wings
 
                                    
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