A Scampish Little Rascal Was He
A scampish little rascal was he.
Dancing truth on the silver sea.
Collecting nickels for his fee.
Slapping his tummy at the baby’s knee.
Singing loudly with yellow chickadee.
Using phrases like wanna-bee.
Living in sin was the key.
We called him little Dicky Dee.
Lived every single second with glee.
Was a friend to all you see.
Lived to be a ripe ninety-three.
What better scamp could ever be?
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