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The Song Book |
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I threw him on my shoulder, and then we trudged home, We took him to a neighbour's house and sold him for a crown, We sold him for a crown, my boys, but I did not tell you where; Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.
Success to every gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire, Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare, Bad luck to every gamekeeper that will not sell his deer; Oh, 'tis my delight on a shining night, in the season of the year.
Chappell.
LVI
COME YOU NOT FROM NEWCASTLE! |
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