The Singers' Companion/Begone Dull Care

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BEGONE DULL CARE.

Begone, dull care ! I prithee begone from me;
Begone, dull care ! thou and I can never agree.
Long time hast thou been tarrying here,
And fain thou wouldst me kill;
But i’ faith ! dull care,
Thou never shalt have thy will,

Too much care will make a young man grey;
And too much care will turn an old man to clay,
My wife shall dance, and I will sing,
So merrily pass the day;
For I hold it one of the wisest things,
To drive dull care away.