
barbara bonney - the willow song (desdemona - othello) lyrics
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the poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree
sing all a green willow, willow, willow;
her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee
sing willow, willow, willow;
the fresh streams ran by her, and murmur’d her moans;
sing willow, willow, willow;
her salt tears fell from her, and softened the stones;
sing willow, willow, willow;
sing all a green willow must be my garland
let n0body blame him, his scorn i approve
i called my love false love; but what said he then?
sing willow, willow, willow
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