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The Song Book |
37 |
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But, if thou wilt harden thy heart, love,
And be deaf to my pitiful moan, Then I must endure the smart, love, And shiver in straw, all alone. Yet still he cried &c.
Chappell. Tune Traditional. |
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LXIV
THE WINTER IT IS PAST |
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The rose upon the briar, by the waters running clear, May have charms for the linnet or the bee ;
Their little loves are blest, and their little hearts at rest; But my true love is parted from me.
Tune Anon. |
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