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The sun is not a-bed,when I
At night upon my pillow lie
Still round the earth his way he takes
And morning after morning makes
While here at home,in shining day
We round the sunny garden play
Each little Indian sleepy-head
Is being kissed and put to bed
And when at eve I rise from tea
Day dawns beyond the Atlantic sea
And all the children in the west
Are getting up and being dressed