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The Song Book |
127 |
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And when you well reckoned have,
What kisses you your sweethearts gave, Take them all again, and more, It will never make them poor.
Then to the May-pole come away, For it is now a holiday.
When you thus have spent the time,
Till the day be past its prime, To your beds repair at night,
And dream there of your day's delight. Then to the May-pole haste away, For it is a holiday.
Chappell. From William Ballet's Lute Book. Tune Staines Morris. |
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XCVII
SHALL I GO WALK THE WOODS SO WILD |
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