They shall knaw a file, and flee unto the mountains of Hepsidam whar the lion roareth and the Wang Doodle mourneth for its first born ah!
Way down upon de Swanee Ribber, Far, far away, Dere's whar ma heart am turning ebber, Dere's whar de old folks stay. All up and down de whole creation, Sadly I roam, Still longing for de old plantation, And for de old folks at home.
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