Arthur oBradley.
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ALL in the merry month of may,
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The maids a may-pole they will have,
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Your helping hand I do crave;
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For theres never a Man shall sup,
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Till I have drank my cup,
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For I am belovd by all,
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The great and the small.
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For my name it is Arthur oBradley O.
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O rare Arthur oB[r]adly,
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O fine Arthur oBradley, O.
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And as I went forth one day,
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I met a maid by the way;
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I took her by the hand,
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Desiring her to stand;
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For tis love conquers kings,
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And a sorrowful heart brings,
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For if you lov[]d your mother,
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Love me and no other.
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For my name, etc.
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Then Arthur a wooing went.
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To gain her friends consent,
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And beauty he must have,
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Because he is rich and brave,
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His sweetheart had but one eye,
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Her nose stood all awry,
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Her mouth from ear to ear.
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Her teeth as rotten as a pear,
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With a hump upon her back,
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For a crump she did not lack,
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With bandy legs also,
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A wheelbarrow may go through.
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And her name it was Draggletail
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Dorothy.
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Ill ask my mothers leave,
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So then they went with speed.
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Good-morrow, mother said he,
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Youre welcome son, said she,
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One question of you I do crave.
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Your Daughter for to have,
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For I love her as my life,
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And will make her my wife.
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For my name, etc.
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The old woman cryd,
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And calld her daughter aside,
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O daughter sweet cries she,
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What makes you so eager be?
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To be a bumkins bride,
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When better will lie by your side,
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You lie, you old whore, cries he,
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I can have as good as she.
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For my name, etc.
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When death my father calls,
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He vows to leave me all.
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A wooden wedge and maul,
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And a jolly clout withal;
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With barrels, bukets, looms,
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And a dozen of wooden spoons,
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A cheese-fat and ladder,
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With two chums laid together.
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A basket and a wimble,
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A pack-needle and thimble.
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Nine barn rakes and a frail,
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Besides an old cart-nail;
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And at last falls to my lot,
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A sweet old mustard-pot,
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For my name, etc.
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And a wedding we will have,
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So jolly, fine and brave,
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Ill bid my neighbours round,
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One out of every town,
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Old mother Hobbs of Spalding,
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Moll Becks of Walding,
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John Sly of Eversham,
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Old Grace of Evengham;
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Barbling Grey of Sutton,
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Ralph Swill of Dutton.
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For my name, etc.
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Then Arthur about her did walk
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To interrupt her talk,
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Adzooks mother, said he,
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I can have as good as she.
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My father in his will left me all,
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When Death does him call,
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Some good old looms,
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With a dozen of wooden spoons.
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And a dozen of buttons hanging upon
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a string,
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One left-hand mitten, and an old cur-
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tain ring;
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Spiggots and fausits five,
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Besides an old bee hive,
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With a chamber pot as good,
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As ever was made of wood.
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For my name, etc.
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