Samuel Barber — Theres Nae Lark

There's nae lark loves the light, my dear There's nae ship loves the sea There's nae bee loves the heather-bells That loves as I love thee, my love That loves as I love thee The whin shines fair upon the fell The blithe broom on the lea: The muirside wind is merry at heart; It's a' for love of thee, my love It's a' for love of thee


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