Make Passionate My Sense Of Hearing.

Woe To That Land That's Governed By A Child.

I Dote On His Very Absence.

Nature Hath Framed Strange Fellows In Her Time.

That Affable Familiar Ghost Which Nightly Gulls Him With Intelligence.

It Was A Lover And His Lass, With A Hey, And A Ho, And A Hey Nonino, That O'er The Green Corn-field Did Pass, In The Spring Time, The Only Pretty Ring Time, When Birds Do Sing, Hey Ding A Ding, Ding; Sweet Lovers Love The Spring.