Who suffers these well may cry, God wot—
Miserere Domine!
NOW, IF I WERE RICH
Now, if I were rich,
And lord of the manor,
My limbs might all twitch.
Now, if I were rich
I might marry a—witch,
And lose every tanner
That made me so rich,
Who suffers these well may cry, God wot—
Miserere Domine!
Now, if I were rich,
And lord of the manor,
My limbs might all twitch.
Now, if I were rich
I might marry a—witch,
And lose every tanner
That made me so rich,