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Perch, dace, and tittle- — Bats come and twittle About their trails there. Pleasures
so innocent, Who would be changing For the bush-ranging, Washing and dishing
? Of those, love of Tin has sent Rambling creation On speculation, In nugget gold
-fishing, Where dirty diggers Toiling like niggers, Who fail to cut figures, Cut
throats in despair. Enter Sublimus. Sub. Girls, where's your mother ? Pastora
sings without " Under the Greenwood Tree." Chloe. Coming at a wish. Sub. She
is — and ...
I think we've well performed our morning task, it Has furnished us of fish a pretty
basket. If I'd not managed so many to settle, There might have been, of fish, a
pretty kettle. Air—CHLoE—“La Donna è mobile.” Here to the melody Of Signor
Verdi, So often heard I— Fish under hedges, And sometimes all the day Without
a nibble, Hear dribble, dribble, The brook through the sedges; And see the little
Perch, dace, and tittle—Bats come and twittle About their trails 34o OWCE UPON
A TIME.