One lugs a golden dish
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ow fair the vine must growWhose grapes are so luscious;How warm the wind must blowThrough those fruit bushes.” “No,” said Lizzie : “No, no, no ;Their offers should not charm us,Their evil gifts would harm us.”She thrust a dimpled fingerIn each ear, shut eyes and ran :Curious Laura chose to lingerWondering at each merchant man.One had a cat’s face, One whisked a tail, One tramped at a rat’s pace, One crawled like a snail,
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