| How pleasant to know Mr. Lear
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| How pleasant to know at the end of the day he’s near
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| With a portfolio that daily features diverse creatures
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| You open the book and it’s true
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| The world is a lot more mysterious than we knew
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| Round every corner unusual things are prone to wander
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| When I was a young man I was oft-times at the zoo
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| To trace the visages and forms of parrots and cockatoos
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| It’s over the hill now he goes
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| Pausing a while with the Pobble who has no toes
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| For your perusal, Victorian days are so unsual
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| Oh my aged Uncle Arly, sitting on a heap of barley
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| On his nosehis faithful cricket
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| In his hat a railway ticket
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| But his shoes were far too tight
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| How pleasant to know Mr. Lear
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| In Egypt, the first day of spring
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| You’re painting a watercolor, hoping the light will bring
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| Guided by pens and inks, the pyramids and palms and sphinx
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| When I was an old man, I had a cat named Foss
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| Now he’s gone I wander on
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| With this unbearable sense of loss
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| How pleasant to know Mr. Lear
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| How pleasant to know at the end of the day he’s near
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| And if you should find him
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| His world is dancing close behind him |