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Let me do it, let me do itLet me blow up the balloonLet me do it, let me do itLet me go to the moon
I told a whopper, a fib, a lie.Slipped out of my mouth. It was slimy, sly.
A new boy joined our class today.His eyes are red, his skin is grey.He will not come outside to play.I think he needs a friend.
Now the day is over,you're lying in your bedand cares are spinning endlesslyaround your weary head.Remember that the moon you seeis also shining down on me.
Please Mrs ButlerThis boy Derek DrewKeeps copying my work, Miss.What shall I do?
A queen in a palace, slumped on a throne,Surrounded by servants but all alone.Heavy with handshakes, bunches of flowers,jewels, crowns, grinning for hours.
How many books have you written?Have you been writing for years?Where do you get all the paper?Where do you get your ideas?
My love is like a well-read bookwhich makes me smile each time I look.It shouts and whispers, roars and singsit grounds me and it gives me wings.
In the line you hear a chatter.Up and down a clatter, clatter.Noisy schoolgirls scream and shout,pushing in and pushing out.
When Raymond Gough joined our classHe was almost a year behind.'Sanatorium', said Mrs McBride'So I want you all to be kind.'