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 Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
 My peace with these, my love with those.
  The bursting tears read more 
 Farewell, my friends! farewell, my foes!
 My peace with these, my love with those.
  The bursting tears my heart declare;
   Farewell, the bonnie banks of Ayr. 
 Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black,
 Cutting through the jungle with a golden track.  
 Then I saw the Congo, creeping through the black,
 Cutting through the jungle with a golden track. 
 "O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
 And call the cattle home,
  And call the cattle read more 
 "O Mary, go and call the cattle home,
 And call the cattle home,
  And call the cattle home,
   Across the sands o' Dee;"
    The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam
     And all alone went she. 
 Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through 
it. The river was cut by the world's read more 
 Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through 
it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over 
rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are 
timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of 
the words are theirs.
 I am haunted by waters. 
 How bright the sunshine dances in its joy,
 O'er the still flow of this majestic river!  
 How bright the sunshine dances in its joy,
 O'er the still flow of this majestic river! 
 Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
 O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;
  The fragrant birch and hawthorn read more 
 Ayr, gurgling, kissed his pebbled shore,
 O'erhung with wild woods, thickening green;
  The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar
   Twined amorous round the raptures scene. 
 Yet I will look upon thy face again,
 My own romantic Bronx, and it will be
  A read more 
 Yet I will look upon thy face again,
 My own romantic Bronx, and it will be
  A face more pleasant than the face of men.
   Thy waves are old companions, I shall see
    A well remembered form in each old tree
     And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy. 
 By shallow rivers, to whose falls
 Melodies birds sing madrigals.  
 By shallow rivers, to whose falls
 Melodies birds sing madrigals. 
 Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove,
 . . . .
  In those fair fields read more 
 Where stray ye, Muses! in what lawn or grove,
 . . . .
  In those fair fields where sacred Isis glides,
   Or else where Cam his winding vales divides?