Текст песни The Wind That Shakes the Corn - The Irish Rovers
                                                    I 
                                                sat 
                                                within 
                                                the 
                                                valley 
                                                green 
                                                    I 
                                                sat 
                                                with 
                                                my 
                                                true 
                                                love
 
                                    
                                
                                                My 
                                                sad 
                                                heart 
                                                had 
                                                to 
                                                choose 
                                                between 
                                                Old 
                                                Ireland 
                                                and 
                                                my 
                                                love
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                looked 
                                                at 
                                                her 
                                                and 
                                                then 
                                                    I 
                                                thought 
                                                how 
                                                Ireland 
                                                was 
                                                torn
 
                                    
                                
                                                While 
                                                soft 
                                                the 
                                                wind 
                                                blew 
                                                down 
                                                the 
                                                glen 
                                                and 
                                                shook 
                                                the 
                                                golden 
                                                corn
 
                                    
                                
                                                T'was 
                                                hard 
                                                the 
                                                woeful 
                                                words 
                                                to 
                                                bring 
                                                to 
                                                break 
                                                the 
                                                ties 
                                                that 
                                                bound
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                harder 
                                                still 
                                                to 
                                                bear 
                                                the 
                                                shame 
                                                of 
                                                English 
                                                chains 
                                                around
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                so 
                                                    I 
                                                said, 
                                                the 
                                                mountain 
                                                glen 
                                                I'll 
                                                seek 
                                                in 
                                                early 
                                                morn
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                join 
                                                the 
                                                brave 
                                                united 
                                                men 
                                                while 
                                                soft 
                                                winds 
                                                shook 
                                                the 
                                                corn
 
                                    
                                
                                                While 
                                                sad 
                                                    I 
                                                kissed 
                                                away 
                                                her 
                                                tears 
                                                my 
                                                fond 
                                                arms 
                                                round 
                                                her 
                                                clung
 
                                    
                                
                                                    A 
                                                British 
                                                shot 
                                                burst 
                                                in 
                                                our 
                                                ears 
                                                from 
                                                out 
                                                of 
                                                the 
                                                wild 
                                                woods 
                                                round
 
                                    
                                
                                                One 
                                                bullet 
                                                pierced 
                                                my 
                                                true 
                                                love's 
                                                side 
                                                    a 
                                                rose 
                                                pierced 
                                                by 
                                                    a 
                                                thorn
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                in 
                                                my 
                                                arms 
                                                in 
                                                blood 
                                                she 
                                                died 
                                                while 
                                                soft 
                                                winds 
                                                shook 
                                                the 
                                                corn
 
                                    
                                
                                                So 
                                                blood 
                                                for 
                                                blood 
                                                without 
                                                remorse 
                                                I've 
                                                taken 
                                                in 
                                                the 
                                                glen
 
                                    
                                
                                                    I 
                                                placed 
                                                my 
                                                true 
                                                love's 
                                                clayful 
                                                corpse 
                                                    I 
                                                joined 
                                                true 
                                                Irish 
                                                men
 
                                    
                                
                                                But 
                                                around 
                                                her 
                                                grave 
                                                    I 
                                                wander 
                                                drear 
                                                sometimes 
                                                in 
                                                early 
                                                morn
 
                                    
                                
                                                And 
                                                with 
                                                breaking 
                                                heart 
                                                sometimes 
                                                    I 
                                                hear 
                                                the 
                                                wind 
                                                that 
                                                shakes 
                                                the 
                                                corn
 
                                    
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