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Ah, Owen, what shall I do
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'And with his friend young Lechmere played...'
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At last it's
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Come in...It's me, Lechmere
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Coyle, I wish I had not come
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I envy you this fine old house
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Is that you, Coyle
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May God bless the Queen
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Now you may save your scornful looks
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Oh, how unforeseen
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'Paramore shall welcome woe!'
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Prelude
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Sirrah! How dare you!
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There was a boy, a Wingrave born
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Your sherry, Mrs Coyle
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You've got your maps there
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