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Harold Raitt
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Sir Arthur Sullivan
With Strephon for your foe, no doubt / Young Strephon is the kind of lout
When I went to the Bar
Spurn not the nobly born
Of all the young ladies I know
The law is the true embodiment
Loudly let the trumpet bray
None shall part us from each other
Good morrow, good lover
Tripping hither, tripping thither
When I go out of door
Love is a plaintive song
A magnet hung in a hardware shop
Silvered is the raven hair
Sad is that woman’s lot
Prithee, pretty maiden
If you’re anxious for to shine
When I first put this uniform on
If you want a receipt for that popular mystery
I cannot tell what this love may be
Twenty love-sick maidens we
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