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Who'll be chief mourner?
I, said the Dove;

For I mourn for my love; I'll be chief mourner.

Who'll sing a psalm?
I, said the Thrush,

As she sat in a bush;
I'll sing a psalm.

Who'll toll the bell?
I, said the Bull,
Because I can pull;

So, Cock Robin, farewell.

All the birds of the air

Fell a-sighing and sobbing, When they heard the bell toll For poor Cock Robin.

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