AVith a smile his sorrow cures;At length she says, Im yours;Go and bid the parson bring his book, book, book. I am come, sir, now(Making a very low bow),That I may acqnaint you with the news, news, news: I have taken it in my pate To choose a loving mate. So pray, Mr. Parson, do not muse, mnse,…
Nursery rhymes
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