round and round we go,
faster and faster we spin,
the beat of the fiddle
making our hearts grow light,
the flute ringing out,
like a lost and dear old friend,
ah these days will last forever,
they are all that matter,
sweeter than the sweetest wine,
soft and tender as the fairest
lass’s lips,
surely we have passed
this way before;
if only in a dream.
.
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