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The Song Book |
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CI
/ TELL THEE, DICK, WHERE I HAVE BEE NT |
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At Charing Cross hard by the way Where we (thou know'st) do sell our hay,
There is a house with stairs; And there did I see coming down Such folk as are not in our town,
Forty at least in pairs.
Among the rest one pest'lent fine,
(His beard no bigger, though, than thine)
Walk'd on before the rest : Our landlord looks like nothing to him, The king, (God bless him !) 'twould undo him,
Should he go still so dress'd.
The maid—and thereby hangs a tale, For such a maid no Whitsun ale Could ever yet produce : |
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