Cherries
My wanton, weepe no more
The losing of your cherries;
Those, and farre sweeter berries,
Your sister, in good store,
Hath spred on lips and face:
Be glad, kisse but with me, and hold your peace.
The losing of your cherries;
Those, and farre sweeter berries,
Your sister, in good store,
Hath spred on lips and face:
Be glad, kisse but with me, and hold your peace.
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