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Come Hither Sweet Robin
Come hither, sweet Robin, and be not afraid,
I would not hurt even a feather;
Come hither, sweet Robin, and pick up some bread,
To feed you this very cold weather.
I don't mean to frighten you, poor little thing,
And pussy-cat is not behind me;
So hop about pretty, and drop down your wing,
And pick up some crumbs, and don't mind me.
But now the wind blows, and I must, not stay long,
I shall let all the snow and the sleet in;
So remember next summer to give me a song,
To pay for the breakfast you're eating.
I don't mean to frighten you, poor little thing,
And pussy-cat is not behind me;
So hop about pretty, and drop down your wing,
And pick up some crumbs, and don't mind me. |
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