A carrion crow sat on an oak, Watching a tailor shape his cloak. "Wife, bring me my old bent bow, That I may shoot yon carrion crow." The tailor he shot and missed his mark, And shot his own sow quite through the heart. "Wife, wife, bring brandy in a spoon, For our old sow is in a swoon." Ba, ba, black sheep, Have you any wool? Yes, marry, have I, Three bags full. One for my master, One for my dame, But none for the little boy That cries in the lane.…
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