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Ryder was sitting on the edge of the Old Briar-patch one morning when Ol’ Mistah Buzzard passed, flying low. “Good morning, Brer Cottontail,” said Ol’ Mistah Buzzard, with a twinkle in his eye. |
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Ryder was sitting on the edge of the Old Briar-patch one morning when Ol’ Mistah Buzzard passed, flying low. “Good morning, Brer Cottontail,” said Ol’ Mistah Buzzard, with a twinkle in his eye. |