Roger Whittaker - David of the white rock lyrics

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Artist: Roger Whittaker

Title: David of the white rock

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David the bard on his bed of death lies

Pale are his features and dim are his eyes

Yet all around him his glance wildly roves,

till it alights on the harp that he loves.

Give me my harp, my companion so long

Let it once more add its voice to my song

Though my old fingers are palsied and weak

Still my good harp for its master will speak.