The probability is that any verse of this nature, in which the lines are worn smooth, is one which has been causing tutorial ears to tingle for a generation at least; and very probably it is known in a variety of forms.
I have my own notions, though I hesitate to expound too deeply lest anyone accuse me of taking things Floydian too seriously.
Once more, the more to aggrauate the note, With a foule Traitors name ſtuffe I thy throte, And wiſh (ſo pleaſe my Soueraigne) ere I moue, What my tong ſpeaks, my right drawn ſword may proue
Wood agreed. ‘This is it.’ ‘The big one,’ said Fred Weasley. ‘The one we’ve all been waiting for,’ said George. ‘We know Oliver’s speech by heart,’ Fred told Harry.
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DiQt
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