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This ain’t a sword, it ain’t a spear, An arrow, nor a bow, ’Tis just a thing I carries ’round With me where e’er I go. It cannot talk or grumble, And never answers back, But it can sniff out vermin An’ land ’em such a crack! O my liddle stick o’ wood, my liddle stick o’ wood, Whacks here’n’there an’ everywhere, No weapon’s half so good, An’ I am tellin’ you, My friend so stout’n’true, This liddle piece o’ timber Has always seen me through. It’ll wallop a weasel, sock a stoat, Or fling a ferret from ’is coat, ’Twould knock a fox clean out his socks, My liddle stick o’ wood!
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