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What the Rattlesnake Said

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The Moon's a little prairie-dog.
He shivers through the night.
He sits upon his hill and cries
For fear that I will bite.

The Sun's a broncho.   He's afraid
Like every other thing,
And trembles morning, noon and night
Lest I should spring and sting.

Source: Poetry

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This poem originally appeared in the July 1913 issue of Poetry magazine

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What the Rattlesnake Said

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