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As they went, tokens of the life within came out to them through doorway and window. Now it was the voice of a laughing young mother: "Si tu as faim Manges ta main Et gardes l'autre pour demain; Et ta tete Pour le jour de fete; Et ton gros ortee Pour le Jour Saint Norbe" And again: "Let us pluck the bill of the lark, The lark from head to tail " He knew the voice.
Now it was the voice of a laughing young mother: "Si tu as faim Manges ta main Et gardes l'autre pour demain; Et ta tete Pour le jour de fete; Et ton gros ortee Pour le Jour Saint Norbe" And again: "Let us pluck the bill of the lark, The lark from head to tail " He knew the voice. It was that of a young wife of the parish of St.
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