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'Tis the voice of the sluggard; I heard him complain, you have waked me too soon, I must slumber again.
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Birds in their little nest agree; and 'Tis a shameful sight, when children of one family fall out, and chide, and fight.
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Death, like an overflowing stream, Sweeps us away: our life's a dream,...
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Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn, and murmur and repine,...
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Whatever brawls disturb the street There should be peace at home.
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