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Ah happy days! but now no longer found: No more with ocial hopitable glee The village hearths at Chritmas-tide reound, No more the Whitun gamboll may you ee, Nor morrice daunce, nor May daye jollitie When the blythe maydens foot the deawy green; But now, in place, heart-inking penurie And hopelee care on every face is een, As these the drery times of curfeu bell had been.

For everie while, with thief-like lounging pace, And dark of look, a tawdrie villain came, Muttering ome words with erious-meaning face, And on the church dore he would fix their name; Then, nolens volens, they mut heed the ame, And quight those fieldes their yeomen grandires plowd Eer ince black Edwards days, when, crownd with fame, From Creie field the Knights old grandire prowd Led home his yeomandrie, and each his glebe allowd.