I Will Not Marry Paris
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Lyrics
Capulet: Hang thee young baggage, disobedient wretch, I tell thee what, get thee to church a'Thursday, Or never after look me in the face. Speak not, reply not, do not answer me. My fingers itch, wife: we scarce thought us blest, That God had lent us but this only child, But now I see this one is one too much, And that we have a curse in having her: Out on her hilding.
Audio Features
Song Details
- Duration
- 02:44
- Key
- 10
- Tempo
- 95 BPM