  O’er the moving waters of the Horicon Comes a gentle breeze, Throwing kisses to its ripples, Flirting with the trees, Blowing whiffs of scented clover, Whiffs of sweetest peas. On the moving waters of the Horicon Comes a red canoe, Bearing Cupid, with an arrow Pointed at the crew, Sharing youthful dreams together, In that red canoe! |
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