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PETER WHITE. |
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217 |
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Peter White
Will ne'er go right, Would you know the reason why ?
He follows his nose
Wherever he goes, And that stands all awry. |
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He that would thrive, Must rise at five; He that hath thriven, May lie till seven; And he that by the plough
would thrive, Himself must either hold or drive. ' |
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Hush-a-bye, baby,
Daddy is near; Mamma is a lady,
And that's very clear. |
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