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THE DANCE OF THE CONSUMPTIVES.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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THE DANCE OF THE CONSUMPTIVES.

Ding-dong! ding-dong!
Merry, merry, go the bells,
Ding-dong! ding-dong!
Over the heath, over the moor, and over the dale,
“Swinging slow with sullen roar,”
Dance, dance away the jocund roundelay!
Ding-dong, ding-dong calls us away.
Round the oak, and round the elm,
Merrily foot it o'er the ground!
The sentry ghost it stands aloof,
So merrily, merrily foot it round.

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Ding-dong! ding-dong!
Merry, merry, go the bells,
Swelling in the nightly gale,
The sentry ghost,
It keeps its post,
And soon, and soon our sports must fail:
But let us trip the nightly round,
While the merry, merry bells ring round.
Hark! hark! the deathwatch ticks!
See, see, the winding-sheet!
Our dance is done,
Our race is run,
And we must lie at the alder's feet!
Ding-dong! ding-dong!
Merry, merry, go the bells,
Swinging o'er the weltering wave!
And we must seek
Our deathbeds bleak,
Where the green sod grows upon the grave.
They vanish—The Goddess of Consumption descends, habited in a sky-blue robe, attended by mournful music.