| Where They Nestled In Valleys Of Red-Hued Loam |
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| Then I Left Behind Me This Island Fair |
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| It Was Night And The Tired Villagers Were Wrapped In Sleep |
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| The Highway Was Hot And Dusty, Oppressive The Air |
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| Tired Out With The Heat And The Burden Of Day |
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| 'Twas The Hush Of The Early Dawn |
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| The Hills And The Valleys Awoke |
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| What Witchery Lies In Thy Moonlight |
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| And When The First Blush Of Dawn Doth Color The Eastern Sky |
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| But What Of The Poor Old Bhisti's, Whose Work Had Been So Far |
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