Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXXVII. Love And Matrimony.
There was a little pretty lad, And he lived by himself, And all the meat he got He put upon a shelf. The rats and the mice Did lead him such a life, That he went to Ireland To get himself a wife. The lanes they were so broad, And the fields they were so narrow, He couldn't get his wife home Without a wheelbarrow. The wheelbarrow broke, My wife she got a kick, The deuce take the wheelbarrow, That spared my wife's neck.
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