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Text: You sleepy headed numskull, go home and take a snooze, / When you go to see the girls, they think you’re full of booze.
/ As vain as any weather-cock, you know not how to talk, / Nor can you take a slight hint, when you’re told it’s time to walk.
/ You ought to be a baker’s boy, for now wherever you go, / The girls all laugh at such a calf, and say your head is dough.
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