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There was an old woman tossed in
a basket. Seventeen times as high as the
moon; But where she was going no mortal
could tell, For under her arm she carried a
broom. "Old woman, old woman, old
woman," said I, "Whither, oh whither, oh
whither so high?" "To sweep the cobwebs from
the sky; And I'll be with you by-and-by |
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