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Though duly from my hand he took

His pittance every night, He did it with a jealous look,

And, when he could, would bitc.

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His frisking was at evening hours,

For then he loft his fear,
But moft before approaching showers,

Or when a ftorm drew ncar.

Eight years and five round-rolling moons

He thus faw fteal away, Dozing out all his idle noons,

And every night at play.

I kept him for his humour' sake,

For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts that made it ache,

And force me to a smile.

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