Postman:
And every night when the moon gives light, The ghost of the miller is seen, As he walks the track with a sack on his back, Down to the Black Borheen. And the mill wheels turn though the night is still, And the elf lights flash from the ruined mill, He haunts the station, he haunts the hill, And the land that lies between.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 07:19
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