Quotes by Samuel Lover
Sure my love is all crost Like a bud in the frost And there's no use at all in my going to bed, For 't is dhrames and not slape that comes into my head! |
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That 's eight times to-day that you 've kissed me before. "Then here goes another," says he, "to make sure, For there 's luck in odd numbers," says Rory O'More. |
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For dhrames always go by conthraries, my dear. |
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And with my advice, faith I wish you'd take me. |
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Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye. |
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Sure the shovel and tongs To each other belongs. |
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A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wild-raging sea. |
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As she sat in the low-backed car The man at the turn-pike bar Never asked for the toll But just rubbed his auld poll And looked after the low-backed car. |
Samuel Lover's Biography
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