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The Cricket (In The Fashion Of Robert Burns)

T’was the early days of Autum
An frost lay heavy on the fields
While in th’ house t’was snug an’ warm
With th’ smell of the blazn’ fire fillin’ us with good cher.

Later, th’ fire was banked
With the rattlin’ of the door and window
We ws little concerned
As fer th’ North wind; let it blow.

In the fireplace, the embers were a’glow
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