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The Song Book
We praise the household maid, And duly she is paid : Every night before we go, We drop a tester in her shoe.
Then o'er a mushroom's head Our table-cloth we spread ; A grain of rye or wheat, The diet that we eat; Pearly drops of dew we drink In acorn cups fill'd to the brink.
The brains of nightingales,
With unctuous fat of snails,
Between two cockles stew'd,
Is meat that's easily chew'd ;
Tails of worms and marrow of mice
Do make a dish that's wonderous nice.
The grasshopper, gnat, and fly,
Serve for our minstrelsy
Grace said, we dance awhile
And so the time beguile :
And if the moon doth hide her head,
The glow-worm lights us home to bed.
O'er tops of dewy grass So nimbly we do pass, The young and tender stalk Ne'er bends where we do walk : Yet in the morning may be seen Where we the night befoi-e have been.
Chappell. From Musick's Delight on the Cithern. Words from Percy's Reliques.
Tune The Spanish Gipsy. |
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