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[Notes are sung first by group.] Death, like an overflowing stream, Sweeps us away. Our life’s a dream, An empty tale, a morning flower, An empty tale, a morning flower, Cut down and withered in an hour. An empty tale, a morning flower, An empty tale, a morning flower, Cut down and withered in an hour. |
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All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas Back to the Song Index Back to the Wolf Collection Homepage ©Copyright 2002 Lyon College |