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Rhyming Story

"But why", riddled the slumages, "is a raven like a writing desk milady?"
"No answer 'ey?" mocked the mocking swan.
"Says who?"
"Says you! Which lady of which lake has no living answer to it?"
"Aye, duckling", did the swan concede,
"but in England all swans belong to the queen"
Six feet under, ever awake
Waiting for the queen to grant more fake
Either I learn or I suffer more
I take the latter, spit at the whore
Sleeping beauty was never just a lass
Boyly or Girly, 't is holy nature alas

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