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100,000,000,000,000 poems
The wild horse champs the Parthenon's top frieze
When masons clutch the breath we held on loan
He bent right down and well what did he seize
Which neither time nor tide can long postpone
It's one of many horrid happenings
Rejecting ermine to become a knave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Victorious worms grind all into the grave
It's no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
With quill white-collared through his life will jog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
But I can understand you
Brogher Gog
And let you off from your opinions glum
In cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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