The Good Old Songs We Used to Sing, '61 to '65 by Osborn H. Oldroyd

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KEY OF B FLAT.

In the prison cell I sit, thinking, mother, dear, of you, / And our bright and happy home so far away, / And the tears they fill my eyes, spite of all that I can do, / Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.

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