Where Tiber rolls majestic to the main,
And flattens, as he runs, the fair campagne.
How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair;
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae weary fu' o' care!
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Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them allI'm on your side
When times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.