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Published on Oct 2, 2010
Lorna Kelly and Dianne Coutes (sorry "poem" should read "music") Text anon. The wakeful nightingale, that takes no rest While Cupid warms his little breast, All night how sweetly he complains, And makes us fear that love has pains. No, no, no, no, 'tis no such thing, For love that makes him wake, makes him sing.