| The frog hopped, silently, fearfully
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| in out from the chill of night
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| Covered with the shiny dew of morning
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| Carefully, he came to cause no fright to the Son of God a-borning
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| Since from his place upon the earth he could not see the manger
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| Tho' shy, he leaped into the air to see the little stranger
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| The beasts were outraged!
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| Angry that a frog so impolite
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| Would dare disturb the Holy Child’s dreaming
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| «Get you far away and out of sight,
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| You are ugly and blaspheming.
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| And why do you not humbly bow,
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| And what gift are you bringing?»
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| The Frog then croaked,
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| «I come to God with only my rough singing
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| I came to sing for Jesus.»
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| The animals laughed, «hahahaha» to think of such a joke
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| That a simple frog would be so odd as to come to God to croak
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| The animals laughed, «hahahahahaha»
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| That a simple frog would be so odd as to come to God to croak
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| Baby Jesus saw the frog and laughed with sheer delight
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| To see him hopping high through the stable
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| And Mary softly did him invite to sing the little boy’s first fable
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| Light came down from heaven and around the frog was gleaming
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| And like an Angel sent from God
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| The lowly frog was singing
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| And he sang of logs and polliwogs
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| Of rafts and summer fishin;
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| Of morning frogs and puppy dogs
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| And places to go wishin'
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| Of misty bogs and swimming togs
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| and treasures laying deep.
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| And when the last note died away
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| The baby was asleep
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| And from that day on the frog was drawn to live high in the towers
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| Of pine and oak, no more to croak among the water flowers
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| But a tree frog he would always be whose voice could shame the bird
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| And they say that every Easter morn his voice can still be heard |