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the jocund dance, The softly-breathing song, Where innocent eyes do glance, Where lisps the maiden's tongue.

I love the laughing vale, I love the echoing hill, Where mirth does never fail, And the jolly swain laughs his fill.

I love the pleasant cot, I love the innocent bower, Where white and brown is our lot, Or fruit in the mid-day hour.

I love the oaken seat Beneath the oaken tree, Where all the old villagers meet, And laugh our sports to see.

I love our neighbours all, But, Kitty, I better love thee; And love them I ever shall, But thou art all to me.