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AMIENS

Under the greenwood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,

And turn her merry note

Unto the sweet bird’s throat?

Come hither,

Come hither.

Here shall she see

No enemy

But winter

And rough weather.

Who doth ambition shun,

And longs to live in the sun,

Seeking the food she eats,

And pleased with what fate she meets?

Come hither,

Come hither.

Here shall she se

No enemy

But winter

And rough weather.

Act I

Act II