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1862–1900

Sell Her,— That's Right.

Thomas Winthrop Hall

Sell her,— that's right! She is young, she is fair; There's the light of the sun in the coils of her hair. And her soul is as white as the first flakes of snow That are falling to-night.‘ T is a bargain, a “go”

Sell her,— that's right! Sell her,— that's right! For a bag full of gold. Put her down in your ledger, and label her “Sold” She's only a beauty with somebody's name,

And the Church for a pittance will wash out the shame. Sell her,— that's right!

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Sell Her,— That's Right. · Thomas Winthrop Hall · Poetry Cove