[grisbi-bugs] T, Our river waits the tuneful tongue And cunning han

[Suman]

T their turnips and young wheat." "Well, what I shall do with him I
don't know!" despairingly exclaimed Miss Lucinda. "He was such a dear
little thing when you brought him, Israel! Do you remember how pink his
pretty little nose was,--just like a rosebud,--and how bright his eyes
looked, and his cunning 
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