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Nathan Nobb, Oh, what a job! Always walked on his head; His mother would sob To his brother Bob, And his father took to his bed.

They made him a boot His head to suit, But a horrible thing must be said,-- His hair took root, And began to shoot, One day, in the garden bed!

So there he stands With the help of his hands And a little support from his nose: The gardener man, With the watering-can, Says, “Gracious, how fast he grows!”