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THE SKY-LARK. 19$
But father's not the likes of I,
For knowing life or fun,
For I strange tricks and fancies spy
Folks never show the sun.
Rogues, owls, and bats can't bear the light,
I've heard your wise ones say,
And so, d'ye mind, I sees at night
Things never seen by day.
At night men lay aside all art,
As quite a useless task,
And many a face and many a heart
Will then pull off the mask.
Each formal prude and holy wight
Will throw disguise away,
And sin it openly at night,
Who sainted it all day.
His darling hoard the miser views,
Misses from friends decamp,
And many a statesman mischief brews
To his country o'er his lamp.
So father and I, dye take me right,
Are just on the same lay,
I bare-fac'd sinners light by night,
And he false saints by day.

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