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THERE WAS A LITTLE MAN. 209 There was a little man, and he had a little gun, And his bullets were made of lead, lead, lead : He shot Johnny King through the middle of his wig, And knocked it right off his head, head, head. Three straws on a staff, Would make a baby cry and laugh. Multiplication is vexation, Division is as bad; The Rule of Three perplexes me, And Practice drives me mad. Daffy-down-Dilly has come up to town, In a yellow petticoat and a green gown. 14
