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Spilverk þjóðanna( Spilverk þjooanna )
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Farms of Home
The farms of home lie lost in even I see far off the steeple stand West and away from here to heaven Still is the land
There if i go no girl will greet me No comrade hollo from the hill No dog run down the yard to meet me: The land is still
The land is still by farm and steeple And still for me the land may say There i was friends with perished people And there lie they
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