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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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