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But now they feed them with good cheer, And what they want they take in beer ; For Christmas comes but once a year, And then they shall be merry.
Good farmers in the country nurse
The poor, that else were undone; Some landlords spend their money worse,
On lust and pride at London. There the roysters they do play, Drab and dice their lands away, Which may be ours another day; And therefore let's be merry.
The client now his suit forbears, The prisoner's heart is eased ;
The debtor drinks away his cares, And for the time is pleased.
Though other purses be more fat,
Why should we pine or grieve at that ?
Hang sorrow ! care will kill a cat, And therefore let's be merry.
Hark ! how the wags abroad do call Each other forth to rambling:
Anon you '11 see them in the hall For nuts and apples scrambling. |
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