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beauty Beneath bloom borne breaſt brought chatter child church-yard cold comfort cottage cries Crocodile Death delight door drink ears ev'ry eyes face fair farm father feel feet fell figh fire give Goody Blake graſs green ground hand happy hard Harry Gill head hear heard heart Heaven hill keep kind King lamb leaves limbs live look Lucy maid mind morning mother mountain muſt never night once orphan boy parents play pleaſure poor pray pride reply reſt ſaid ſame ſaw ſay ſcarce ſee ſeen ſhall ſhe ſhould ſide ſing ſleep ſmall ſnow ſome ſong ſpring ſtill ſuch ſun ſweet tail tears tell thee theſe thing Thoſe thou thought took turn'd turning Twas voice warm Whoſe wild wind woman young
50 psl. - Then did the little maid reply, "Seven boys and girls are we; Two of us in the churchyard lie Beneath the churchyard tree.
28 psl. - tis to be an orphan boy. 0 were I by your bounty fed; Nay, gentle lady, do not chide, Trust me, I mean to earn my bread The sailor's orphan boy has pride. Lady, you weep!
45 psl. - No word to any man he utters, A-bed or up, to young or old ; But ever to himself he mutters, " Poor Harry Gill is very cold.'' A-bed or up, by night or day ; His teeth they chatter, chatter still. Now think, ye farmers all, I pray, Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill.
58 psl. - With you ! and quit my Susan's side ? With you ! " the hapless husband cried. " Young as I am, 'tis monstrous hard ! Besides, in truth, I'm not prepared; My thoughts on other matters go ; This is my wedding-day, you know.
24 psl. - Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran ; And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew, I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.
77 psl. - 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he, ' Who fell in the great victory. ' I find them in the garden, For there's many here about ; And often when I go to plough The ploughshare turns them out. For many thousand men,' said he, 'Were slain in that great victory.' ' Now tell us what 'twas all about...
40 psl. - The neighbors tell, and tell you truly, His teeth they chatter, chatter still. At night, at morning, and at noon, 'Tis all the same with Harry Gill; Beneath the sun, beneath the moon, His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
50 psl. - Two of us in the churchyard lie, My sister and my brother; And, in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother.
49 psl. - That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair; Her beauty made me glad. 'Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?' 'How many? Seven in all,' she said, And wondering looked at me.