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Burns Robert - The Lass O Ballochmyle
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The Humors of the Glen (Robert Burns) Their groves o' sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon, Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume, Far dearer to me yon lone glen o'green breckan Wi' th'burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom: Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers, Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen; For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, A listening the linnet, oft wanders my Jean. Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny vallies, And cauld, Caledonia's blast on the wave; Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace, What are they ? The haunt o'the tyrant and slave. The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains, The brave Caledonian views wi'disdain; He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, Save love's willing fetters, the chains o'his Jean. Tune:Humors of the Glen (496) filename[ HUMOFGLN play.exe HUMOFGLN ARB ===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
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Fragment na dzis:
Virgin : Mam wszystko w...
Mam wszystko w (...) dobrze jest
Panu dziękuję
Fuck off! - to mój best
I don't want your money honey
I don't want your money honey
I don't want your money honey
Pokaże drzwi Ci -
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i zielony
Staniesz sie tak jak nadzieja Twa
Że nikt już tylko ja
Jakie Ty w życiu cele masz?
Fura, komóra, gucci płaszcz
I don't want your money honey
I don't want your money h-
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oney
I don't want your money honey
Pokaże drzwi Ci i zielony
Staniesz sie tak jak nadzieja Twa
Że nikt już tylko ja
Tylko ja
To pa pa..
Pokaże drzwi Ci i zielony... ....
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