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The first time I fiddled , I fiddled on Friday
The second time I fiddled I stood by the highway
The third time I fiddled I fiddled so LOUD
The police had to come cause I was drawing a crowd
The forth time I fiddled I was high in a tree
And while I was up there, something occured to me
There is no bad fiddleing
Just bad poetry!
No matter where you go, there you are!
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