"Yes—hurry up," they all cried. So Bawly sang this:
Oh, wiggily, waggily, wheelery,
I wish that I was rich.
I'd buy an automobilery,
And ride it in our ditch.
I wouldn't hop at all again.
I'd ride the whole day long.
But I haven't got an auto,
And so I sing this song.
"I don't call that much of a song," said the old circus dog, Percival. "You ought to do a dance after it. That's what the clowns always do."