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The Quaker’s Wife
par
Ludwig van Beethoven
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Dark was the morn and black the sea When my dear laddie left me The swelling sails how swift they flee Of all my joy bereft me! Methinks I see him take his stand On deck so firm and steady; And distant when he wav'd his hand I knew his tartan plaidy Alas! how heavy are the days In absence and in sorrow While war and death a thousand ways Still make me dread tomorrow O that ambition were at rest While I, the captain's lady Should with my soldier be so blest All gay in tartan plaidy!
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