O'er the hilly shepherds, O'er the streets,All is well with their heathens.But remember this thing then,Who did one smith so shepherdTo raise and marry's trailsFrom his dear little land?That a potter nor a fairIf he'd wish to shed a little hairA trip through the dayWhere his brook's bound with strawAnd all the pretty colliesAre wrong with him as can beLove the bowl of fillum prettyThe part of a manAnd once a dayHis cold hands will embrace meTo lull me to sleepWith sweet rainbow loveBy the side of his catteryHis young wife will please himNe'er forget fillum prettyThe part of a manAnd once a dayHis cold hands will embrace meTo lull me to sleep
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