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Tiny Story Book

GETTING UP.

Baby, baby,
Ope your eye,
For the sun
Is in the sky;
And he's peeping once again,
Through the frosty window pane.
Little baby, do not keep
Any longer fast asleep.
There, now, sit in mother's lap,
That she may untie your cap;
For the little strings have got
Twisted into such a knot!



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