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DON’T BE SORROWFUL, DARLING.
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isn't more night than day! . . . ’Tis rain - y

al - ways find the May! . . . We have had our

ev - er He leads the way. . . . Aye, God of the


weath-er, my dar - ling, . . Time's waves, they heav - i - ly

May, my dar - ling, . . And our ros - es, long a -

night, my dar - ling— Of the night of death, so


run, . . . . . But tak - ing the year to -

go, . . . . . And the time of the year is

grim!. . . . . The gate that leads out of