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Rh Then as ev'ning gave way to the shadows of night, Their watchman, the Glow-worm, came out with his light; Then home let us hasten while yet we can see, For no watchman is waiting for you and for me.

 

the fair Sardinian shore, I your markets come to store; Muse not though so far I dwell, And my wares come here to sell: 'Tis from the fear of hunger and cold. Then come to my pack while I cry, What d'ye lack, what d'ye buy? For here it is to be sold.

Knives and scissors—thus I cry; Thread and tape—come, ladies, buy; Pins and needles—here you see All of finest quality. Things for the young, and things for the old. Then come to my pack, &c.

Ladies! ah, you not'ing buy From the poor Italian boy; Yet I left my own dear home, And to you, kind friends, am come. Let me not die, then, of hunger and cold. But come to my pack, &c.

