Adriville's Groves
Through Adriville's groves. I'd like to roam, in
the merry months of Spring,
There the thrushes and the blackbirds tor, melodeously
do sing,
The pigeon from some stately tree re-echoes dale
and hill,
Of all other lands I love thee far, my own sweet
Adriville.
2
The river Flesk so beautiful right through the
valley flows,
With its winding banks and silvery strands
where the lasses love to stroll,
And spanned or neat by that bridge complete,
which braves each foaming rill,
When far away my thoughts will stray to you
sweet Adriville.
3
Can I 'eer forget those happy days, in child-hood
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