"
"Oh! I see," said the Tin Woodman. "In other words, most of our worries
never materialize, so why fret constantly over something that in all
probability will never occur?"
"I think you've got it," said Dorothy.
"I think you've got it," echoed the Scarecrow.
Everyone laughed uproariously. Then the Tin Woodman broke into song....
"Oh ... never worry worry
'til worry worries you,
'cause if you worry worry
your worry'll worry you."
Dorothy and the Scarecrow joined in:
"Oh ... never worry worry
'til worry worries you,
'cause if you worry worry
your worry'll worry you."
Suddenly a dark shadow covered their raft, and a piercing scream filled
the air. They all looked up to see the Wicked Witch of the Deep South on
a huge broomstick sweeping down on them. She had the ugliest, meanest
face Dorothy had ever seen. As her eyes met Dorothy's, she pointed a
long bony green finger at her and screamed, "I'll get you, Deary! You
killed my sisters.
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