LIX.

There was a jolly miller Lived on the river Dee, He look'd upon his pillow, And there he saw a flee. Oh! Mr. Flea, You have been biting me, And you must die: So he crack'd his bones Upon the stones, And there he let him lie.

Tom, Tom, the piper's son, Stole a pig, and away he run! The pig was eat, and Tom was beat, And Tom went roaring down the street.

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