Winter's not gone yet if the wild geese fly that way
Winter's not gone yet if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind,
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to the poor. II, iv
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolors for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind,
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to the poor. II, iv
But, for all this, thou shalt have as many dolors for thy daughters as thou canst tell in a year.
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