Bab Ballads and Savoy Songs by Sir W. S. (William Schwenck) Gilbert
page 29 of 168 (17%)
page 29 of 168 (17%)
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And laugh at it as such;
But if they saw their Bishop land, His leg supported in his hand, The joke they wouldn't understand-- 'Twould pain them very much!" TO THE TERRESTRIAL GLOBE. BY A MISERABLE WRETCH. Roll on, thou ball, roll on! Through pathless realms of Space Roll on! What, though I'm in a sorry case? What, though I cannot meet my bills? What, though I suffer toothache's ills? What, though I swallow countless pills? Never _you_ mind! Roll on! Roll on, thou ball, roll on! Through seas of inky air Roll on! It's true I've got no shirts to wear; It's true my butcher's bill is due; It's true my prospects all look blue-- |
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