| Silly childhood game — Uncle Wiggily
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| I cower in abject horror
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| Approaching space number 109
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| Home of the gaunt and haggard shell of the Skeezix
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| The emaciated figure
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| Harboring the greed of a thousand
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| Invading, thriving, ascaris whittles away
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| The self confidence of young minds
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| Casting doubt that they will
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| Ever reach the finish
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| To see for themselves
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| The segacious Uncle Wiggily
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| His mission now is complete
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| The arboreal king of misery and woe
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| Skeezix reposes high on a knotty forest crag
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| And the child still tries his best to Stay in the game
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| But with insufficient, no volition
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| Plotted course of demolition
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| Goes through all the motions
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| Musing caveat emptor and
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| A predetermined failure
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| He draws a card and all his fears come true
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| Advance to 109
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| That’s what you have to do When Mr. Skeezix becomes Mr. Jones
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| Or you, or me Just think of what it does to wreck
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| A child of two or three
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| They know and feel much more than
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| We will give them credit for
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| And all they want in life from you
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| Is love and nothing more
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| When painful eyes begin to cringe
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| When you walk through the door
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| Remember children are a gift of love
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| Sent from the Lord |