O Harry Parry,
When will you marry?
When apples and pears are ripe.
I’ll come to your wedding,
Without any bidding,
And dance and sing all the night.
Harry Parry
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O Harry Parry,
When will you marry?
When apples and pears are ripe.
I’ll come to your wedding,
Without any bidding,
And dance and sing all the night.
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