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That would fondly take me in his areas
 * and roll me from the wall.

some of my friends do tell me
 * to drown him in a well,

And others fain would have me
 * to grind him in a mill

But I will take my own way,
 * and tie him to a stake,

And if a wizard he shou'd prove,
 * some mischief will him take.

Now my old man is dead and gone,
 * and he has left to me

Twelve thousand pounds of money,
 * a handsome legacy,

His houses and his lands also,
 * to me he's left them all,

And I have got a fine young man
 * to roll me from the wall.

When the honey month was over,
 * my spouse began to brawl,

My tea pots and my china,
 * he soon did break them all

He kill'd my little lap dog
 * that follow d me at my call,

And now I suffer sorely
 * for the rolling from the wall.