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Someday my prince will come...

Sitting on a little hill in a meadow full of flowers

Listening to the whippoorwill passing by the hours.

I'm dreaming, just a little dream,

Of princesses and towers and how my charming prince

Would stride softly through the flowers.

He would take my hand, hold it tightly in his own,

Bowing low,

Then hand in hand we would dance beneath the moon.

The breeze would play a minuet

Through the trees and the flowers,

The hills would be the outline of our stately castle spires.

The last notes slowly wane and the grass is wet with dew.

The time has come again to bid my prince adieu.

As the sun is stretching out each delicate golden ray

My dream becomes like morning mist

And tip-toes away.


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