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Answer
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There is an inn, a merry old inn
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Beneath an old grey hill
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And there they brew a beer so brown
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That the Man in the Moon himself came down
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One night to drink his fill.
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The ostler has a tipsy cat
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That plays a five-stringed fiddle;
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And up and down he runs his bow,
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Now squeaking high, now purring low,
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Now sawing in the middle.
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The landlord keeps a little dog
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That is mighty fond of jokes
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When there's good cheer among the guests
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He cocks and ear at all the jests
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And laughs until he chokes.
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They also keep a horned cow
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As proud as any queen;
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But music turns her head like ale,
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And makes her wave her tufted tail
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And dance upon the green.
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And O! the rows of silver dishes,
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And the store of silver spoons!
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For Sunday there's a polished pair,
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And these they polish up with care
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On Saturday afternoons.
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The Man in the Moon was drinking deep,
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And the cat began to wail
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A dish and a spoon on the table danced,
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The cow in the garden madly pranced,
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And the little dog chased his tail.
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The Man in the Moon took another mug
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And then rolled beneath his chair;
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And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,
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Till in the sky the stars were pale,
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And dawn was in the air.
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The ostler said to his tipsy cat:
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'The white horses of the Moon,
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They neigh and champ in their silver bits;
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But their master's been and drowned his wits,
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And the Sun'll be rising soon!'
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So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle,
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A jig that would wake the dead:
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He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune
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While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon:
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'Its after three!' he said.
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They rolled the Man slowly up the hill
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And bundled him into the Moon,
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While his horses galloped up in rear
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And the cow came capering like a deer
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And a dish ran up with the spoon.
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Now quicker the fiddle went deedle-dum-diddle;
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The dog began to roar,
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The cow and the horses stood on their heads;
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The guests all bounded from their beds
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And danced upon the floor.
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With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke!
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The cow jumped over the moon!
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And the little dog laughed to see such fun,
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And the Saturday dish went off at a run
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With the silver Sunday spoon.
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The round Moon rolled behind the hill
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As the Sun raised up her head.
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She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
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For though it was day, to her surprise
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They all went back to bed!
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