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I am green and ugly and come out at night with a crumple old broom. Who am I?
From tree to tree it jumps and it swings and this furry little fella likes fruits, nuts and seeds. And sometimes people say to “stop ‘us’-ing around.
With one turn of a handle, I can raise the level.
It get wetter and wetter the more it dries
What did one math book say to another?
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