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THERE was a little guinea-pig,
Who, being little, was not big, He always walked upon his feet, And never fasted when he eat.
He often squeaked, and sometimes
villent, And when he squeaked he ne'er
was silent; Though ne'er instructed by a cat, He knew a mouse was not a rat.
When from a place he ran away,
One day, as I am certified,
up in a
old woman toss'd
basket, Nineteen times, as
high as the moon, Where she was go
ing I couldn't but
ask it, For in her hand she
carried a broom.
“Old woman, old woman, old woman," quoth I,
"O whither, O whither, O whither so high ?" “ To brush the cobwebs off the sky !"
“Shall I go with thee ?” “Aye, by' and by.”
Who rejoiced in a dwelling exceedingly small;
As Dolly was milking her cow one day,
the ground. He met old dame Trot with a basket of eggs, He used his pipe, and she used her legs; She danc'd about till the eggs were all broke, She began for to fret, but he laughed at the
He saw a cross fellow was beating an ass, Heavy laden with pots, pans, dishes, and
glass; He took out his pipe and played them a tune, And the jackass's load was lighten'd full soon.