we’ve fields to harrow
and seed to plant
and the winter’s coming soon
cold cuts to the marrow
and brittles the bone
though the sun is high as noon
toll one
toll one for sorrow
it’s trouble we borrow
and grief we sow
throughout our breath-short years
and what joy brings the morrow
is hard to know
caught in a current of tears
toll one for sorrow
my darling, my dears
toll one
toll one for sorrow
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