| Westward on the high-hilled plains |
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| On moonlit heath and lonesome bank |
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| As through the wild green hills of Wyre |
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| The Day of Battle |
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| March - |
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| The Winds out of the west land blow |
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| You smile upon your friend to-day |
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| On your midnight pallet lying |
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| Wenlock Edge - |
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| When I came last to Ludlow |
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