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Langolee, II Ye botanists yield, I've discovered a root, Adapted to females of every degree; How soverign its virtues, balsamic its fruit; I hope you'll believe when you hear it from me. Langolee is the Irish name of it; Great in the nation already the fame of it; Make but one trial and quickly you'll see, There's nothing comparing with Langolee. When winter's keen blasts are corrected by spring, The lads and lassies of every town, Dance 'round the Maypole, for Maypole's the thing, Expressive of Lango's high fame and renown. Langolee, wonderful medicine, Sensitive plant and beggar's best benison; How happy the island productive of thee Thou root of all roots, thou Langolee. Ye matrons afflicted with colic or wind, Hysterics, or what you call it, from me, Restorative Lango, a medicine you will find, 'Twill enliven your spirits most wondrously. Lanmgolee, sweet is the juice of it; Grently compress it, and gently make use of it. In city or country, wherever it be, The sweets are the same of the Langolee. Ye girls of the cities, with nervous disorders, If from declensions you'd wish to be free, Ye dear little gentles pray take what I order, The Hibernian colt's foot call'd Langolee. Langolee to prevent imposition, You'll get it from none but the Irish physician; Made up in triangular pills for admission; The pectoral nostrum of Langolee. (DUBLIN, MERRY MUSES) Another "Langolee" song is in both copies of <<The Festival of Anacreon>>, and in <<Songs of Captain Morris>>. It is Captain Morris's song "The Amors of the Gods," without tune direction, but the first part, at least, of each verse is in the proper meter and has "Langolee" appearing as the same metaphor. WBO OCT98
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