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Poem by Thomas Hood
Ballad (Spring it is cheery)
Spring it is cheery, Winter is dreary, Green leaves hang, but the brown must fly; When he's forsaken, Wither'd and shaken, What can an old man do but die? Love will not clip him, Maids will not lip him, Maud and Marian pass him by; Youth it is sunny, Age has no honey,-- What can an old man do but die? June it was jolly, Oh for its folly! A dancing leg and a laughing eye; Youth may be silly, Wisdom is chilly,-- What can an old man do but die? Friends, they are scanty, Beggars are plenty, If he has followers, I know why; Gold's in his clutches, (Buying him crutches!) What can an old man do but die?
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