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Rh Suppose we just go into town, To hear and see what's going on; Folks all admire your snow-white coat, Bright eyes, and long and slender throat.

I thank you kindly, Mister Fox, But more I thank the bolts and locks, That make you stand outside the door, To try elsewhere your lying lore. Before you came the day was fair; But since you spoke I do declare, The sight of you, good sir, to day, Has sent the whole sunshine away.

 

from the grey Church-tower, Hark, hark! the Matin Bell Slowly chimes the midnight hour: Hark, hark! the Matin Bell. Now the time of rest is o'er, Now the friars in the choir Soon must sing the Matin Hour: Bim, bome, the Matin Bell.

Ringing from the Church-tower grey, Hark, hark! the Sanctus Bell Ushers in morn's early ray: Hark, hark! the Sanctus Bell. 