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100,000,000,000,000 poems
At five precisely out went La Marquise
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
The Turks said just take anything you please
That suede ferments is not at all well known
The roundabout eats profits made on swings
Signalling gauchos very rarely shave
He's gone to London how the echo rings
Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave
The fasting fakir doesn't smell the less
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
Poor Yorick comes to bury not address
Bard I adore your endless monologue
Where no one bothered how one warmed one's bum
They're kings we're mammal-cousins hi ho hum
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