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100,000,000,000,000 poems
When one with t'other straightaway agrees
Since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
Upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
'Ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown
They both are right not untamed mutterings
The North Wind Bites into his architrave
They both are right not unformed smatterings
Thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave
Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
In indian summers Englishmen drink grog
The country lane just thrives on farmyard mess
Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
Poor reader smile before your lips go numb
And lessors' dates have all too short a sum
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