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All in the wondrous month of May,
When every bud was blowing,
Then deep within my bosom
The tender love was growing.
All in the wondrous month of May,
When birds sang late and early,
I told my love and longing
To her I love so dearly.
When every bud was blowing,
Then deep within my bosom
The tender love was growing.
All in the wondrous month of May,
When birds sang late and early,
I told my love and longing
To her I love so dearly.
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