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Rh 

, dull care, I prithee begone from me; Begone, dull care, you and I shall never agree. Long time thou hast been tarrying here And fain thou wouldst me kill, But i' faith, dull care, Thou never shalt have thy will.

For too much care is health and strength's decay; And too much thought, it wears the mind away. Then away with gloom and sorrow, And merrily pass the day, For I hold it one of the wisest things To drive dull care away.

 

on a chill December morn, The hour when fairies play, The half-burnt rush-light dimly hid The pale moon's glimm'ring ray, When, piercing through the silent gloom, A voice was heard to say, What, all asleep? does no one know It is our washing day?

Oh, there's no peace within the house; Ah me! ah, well away! There's little comfort in the house Upon a washing day. 