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A BOOK OF NURSERY RHYMES
Little King Boggen he built a fine hall,
Pie-crust and pastry-crust that was the
wall,
The windows were made of black puddings
and white,
And slated with pancakes, you ne'er saw
the like.
Three children sliding on the ice,
Upon a summer's day;
As it fell out they all fell in,
The rest they ran away.
Now, had these children been at home,
Or sliding on dry ground,
