The north wind does blow,And we shall have snow,And what will poor robin do then,Poor thing? He’ll sit in a barn,And keep himself warm,And hide his head under his wing,Poor thing!
On Saturday night Shall be all my care To powder my locks And curl my hair. On Sunday morning My love will come in. When he will marry me With a gold ring.
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Temă de Anders Noren — Sus ↑
