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The Song Book |
69 |
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A brushing fox in yonder wood,
Secure to find we seek; For why, I carried, sound and good,
A cartload there last week.
And a hunting we will go, &c.
Away he goes, he flies the rout,
Their steeds all spur and switch; Some are thrown in, and some thrown out,
And some thrown in the ditch.
But a hunting we will go, &c.
At length his strength to faintness worn,
Poor Reynard ceases flight; Then hungry, homeward we return,
To feast away the night.
Then a drinking we do go, &c.
The Words by Fielding. Tune A begging we will go. |
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LI I
O LONDON IS A FINE TOWN |
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