The Donkey
My donkey has a bridle
Hung with silver bells,
He feeds upon the thistles
Growing on the fells.
The bells keep chiming, chiming
A little silver song;
If ever I should lose him
It would not be for long.
Hung with silver bells,
He feeds upon the thistles
Growing on the fells.
The bells keep chiming, chiming
A little silver song;
If ever I should lose him
It would not be for long.
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