Seventeen Times

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There was an old woman tossed up in a basket

Seventeen times as high as the moon

Where she was going, I could not but ask it

For in her hand she carried a broom

“Old woman, old woman, old woman,” quoth I,

“O wither, o wither, o wither so high?”

“To brush the cobwebs from the sky”

“Shall I go with thee?”

“Aye, bye and bye.”

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