There's something on your finger
That shines to me like gold,
There's secrets in my true love's heart
That's never yet been told.
I'll go back home tonight, love,
And smoke my long-stemmed pipe;
Noone to call me darling,
Noone to say good-night.
The leaves all may wither,
The branches may go dry,
But I love you yet, my darling,
And I will the day I die.
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