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INVITATION TO LUBBERLAND (Traditional English c.1687) The rivers run with claret fine, The brooks with rich canary, The ponds with other sorts of wine, To make your hearts full merry: Nay, more than this, you may behold, The fountains flow with brandy, The rocks are like refined gold, The hills are sugar candy. There's nothing there but holy-days With music out of measure; Who can forbear to speak the praise Of such a land of pleasure? There may you lead a lazy life, Free from all kind of labour: And he that is without a wife, May borrow of his neighbour.

    


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