But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Along the roads,
through the town,
we’ve been down thrice
and always found,
A certain place
not distinct,
so known to us
lest we e’r think
Businesses live
run the race,
they too end swiftly
its sunny place,
Miss them we will,
no more go,
hold fond mem’ries
places you know.
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