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MASTER Timmy blithe and airy, |
Never may thy wicket ball, |
When on bended knee thou sittest |
If at hide and seek you play; |
If you hop, or if you run, Or whatever is the fun; Vic'try with her sounding pinion Hover o'er her little minion! |
But when hunger calls the boys From their helter skelter joys, Bread and cheese in order standing For their most rapacious handling Timmy may thy luncheon be More than Jack's as five to three, |
But if hasty-pudding dish, |
Or lob-lollys charming jelly, Court thy ever craving belly; Mortal foe to megre fast, Be thy spoonful, first and last. |
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Email: Mary S. Van Deusen Copyright © 2014, InterMedia Enterprises |