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 Then will his gentle heart soon yield: I know him of a noble mind: Although a lion in the field, A lamb in town thou shalt him find: Ask blessing, babe, be not afraid! His sugar'd words hath me betray'd.

Then may'st thou joy and be right glad, Although in woe I seem to moan; Thy father is no rascal lad: A noble youth of blood and bone, His glancing looks, if he once smile, Right honest women may beguile.

Come, little boy, and rock a-sleep! Sing lullaby, and be thou still! I, that can do naught else but weep. Will sit by thee and wail my fill: God bless my babe, and lullaby, From this thy father's quality.