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Rh Until I had my hoop and net, As you shall quickly hear; Oh, they're my delight, when the sun shines bright, In the season of the year.

To rove a truant gay and free Across the open moor, And chase the painted butterflies As they fly from flow'r to flow'r; To wave about my nice green net, And run I know not where: Oh! 'tis my delight, as the sun shines bright, In the season of the year.

Full many a gay bright butterfly I caught with stealthy bound, And oft I pull'd them limb from limb, And left them on the ground, And never thought how cruel 'twas Their little wings to tear: Oh! 'twas my delight, as the sun shone bright, In the season of the year.

But roving once across the moor, A truant free and gay, The sober dame who ruled the school Did chance to pass that way; And spying me, full loud did cry, Young miss, what brings you here? Oh! 'twas small delight, as the sun shone bright, To stand and quake for fear. 