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With Roses—red Roses,
We'll pelt her with Roses,
And Lilies—white Lilies we'll drop at her feet;
The little Queen's coming,
The people are running—
The people are running to greet and to meet.
Then clash out a welcome,
Let all the bells sound, come,
To give her a welcoming proud and sweet.
How her blue eyes will beam,
And her golden curls gleam,
When the sound of our singing rings down the street.
- author
- Posted on
- Monday 4 May 2020
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- 900*1200
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