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The stars are shining cheerily, cheerily
Horo, Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me.
The sea mew's moaning drearily, drearily
Horo, Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me.
Cold is the stormwind that ruffles the breast
But warm are the downy plumes lining its nest
Cold blows the storm there
Soft falls the snow there
Horo, Mhairi dhu, turn ye to me.
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