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Comments about Sheila O'Donovan
The wind was blowing hard one night as I lay awake in my room,
thoughts of being on my own was like sitting in a cold, dark tomb.
I got out of my bed and slowly crept downstairs.
I was afraid that someone may hear me then away went all my cares.
I went into the kitchen and pulled open the big oak door,
I stepped out into the garden, oh how the wind did roar.
I ran down to the river and walked across the bridge.
I made my way across the fields up to the highest ridge.
I knew I come for something but the reason I didn't know,
Looking down to the meadow I knew ...