“Sure my love is all crost
Like a bud in the frost
And there's no use at all in my going to bed,
For 't is dhrames and not slape that comes into my head!”

Molly Carew, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

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Samuel Lover9

Irish song-writer, novelist, and painter 1797–1868

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