The year has turned its circle,
the seasons come and go.
The harvest is all gathered in,
and chilly north winds blow.
Orchards have shared their treasures,
the fields, their yellow grain.
So open wide the doorway,
Thanksgiving comes again!
the seasons come and go.
The harvest is all gathered in,
and chilly north winds blow.
Orchards have shared their treasures,
the fields, their yellow grain.
So open wide the doorway,
Thanksgiving comes again!
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