Published: 12 Oct 2018 › Updated: 12 Oct 2018
Shakespeare
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to lie with me
And turn his merry note
Until the sweet bird's throat
Come hither , come hither , come hither
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i'the sun
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased what he gets-
Come hither, come hither, come hither
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather
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