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We wear our heavy coats.
The soul of my brother
is pure, though he doesn't think so.
Oh one for sorrow,
Oh one for sorrow, two for joy.
We walk the whole two miles to Holly.
I want to hold his hand but I don't.
The thoughts of my brother,
Where and when they fly I don't know.
What is coming down from the north road,
what is coming up from the ground?
Though we don't know much at all,
stand ever firmly, love.