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With looks that told a tale of woe,
With sighs that spoke the feeling heart,
The shivering boy did nearer draw,
And thus their tale of wo impart—

Before our Father went away,
Entic'd by bad men o'er the sea,
Sister and I did nought but play,
We liv'd beside yon great ash tree,

But then poor Mother did so cry,
And look'd so chang'd, I cannot tell,
She told us that she soon would die,
And bad us love each other well.

She said, that when the war was o'er,
Perhaps we might our Father see;
But if we never saw him more,
That God our Father then would be.