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So he said this little verse: "Wiggily, waggily, woggily wome, How shall I get Alice home? She has hurt herself quite much And she'll have to use my crutch." Of course, Uncle Wiggily knew that wasn't a very good verse, but it was the best he could do. "You shall use my cornstalk crutch, that Nurse Jane Fuzzy-Wuzzy made for me," he went on. "It will be just the thing."
So Bawly sang this: Oh, wiggily, waggily, wheelery, I wish that I was rich. I'd buy an automobilery, And ride it in our ditch. I wouldn't hop at all again. I'd ride the whole day long. But I haven't got an auto, And so I sing this song. "I don't call that much of a song," said the old circus dog, Percival. "You ought to do a dance after it. That's what the clowns always do."
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