Prose for Woes
Marry, sirs, here 's merry greeting!
Who hath woes, let him put 'em in prose;
Song was born and bred a sweeting,
On her lips a tune, at her throat a rose.
Who hath woes, let him put 'em in prose;
Song was born and bred a sweeting,
On her lips a tune, at her throat a rose.
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