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John Clare
( after 1842 )


Little trotty wagtail, he went in the rain,

And tittering, tottering sideways he ne'er got straight again,

He stooped to get a worm, and looked up to catch a fly,

And then he flew away ere his feathers they were dry.

Litle trotty wagtail, he waddled in the mud,

And left his little footmarks, trample where he would.

He waddled in the water-pudge, and waggle went his tail,

and chirrupt up his wings to dry upon the garden rail.

Little trotty wagtail, you nimble all about,

And in the dimpling water-pudge you waddle in and out;

Your home is nigh at hand, and in the warm pigsty,

So, little Master Wagtail, I'll bid you a good-bye.


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