IV.
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hat tho', like commoners of air,We wander out we know not where,But either house or hall?Yet nature's charms, the hills and woods,The sweeping vales, and foaming floods,Are free alike to all.In days when daisies deck the ground,And blackbirds whistle clear,With honest joy our hearts will boundTo see the coming year:On braes when we please, then,We'll sit and sowth a tune;Syne rhyme till't we'll time till't,And sing't when we hae done.
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