Down, down the hill how swift I go! Over the ice, and over the snow; A horse or cart I do not fear. For past them both my sled I steer. Hurra! my boy! I'm going down, While you toil up; but never frown; The far hill-top you soon will gain, And then, with all your might and main, You'll dash by me; while, full of glee, I'll up again to dash by thee! So on we glide—O, life of joy; What pleasure has the glad school-boy!
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