Oh turn not in from marching
Oh turn not in from marching
To taverns on the way.
The drought and thirst and parching
A little dust will lay,
And take desire away.
Oh waste no words a-wooing
The soft sleep to your bed;
She is not worth pursuing,
You will so soon be dead;
And death will serve instead.
To taverns on the way.
The drought and thirst and parching
A little dust will lay,
And take desire away.
Oh waste no words a-wooing
The soft sleep to your bed;
She is not worth pursuing,
You will so soon be dead;
And death will serve instead.
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