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I lived in a caravan,

With a horse to drive, like the pedlar-man!

Where he comes from nobody knows,

Or where he goes to, but on he goes!

His caravan has windows two,

And a chimney of tin, that the smoke comes through;

He has a wife, with a baby brown,

And they go riding from town to town.

Chairs to mend, and delf to sell!

He clashes the basins like a bell;

Tea-trays, baskets ranged in order,

Plates, with the alphabet round the border!

The roads are brown, and the sea is green,

But his house is just like a bathing-machine;