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Poet's |
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Dank and dark Is the bog. Slithery Hides in fog,
Lying in wait By the log; Lusting for Flesh of frog.
Little frogs Sleep and dream They hear sounds Of newts scream,
So, beware! When there’s fog At the dank And dark bog
Slithery Is sliding, Patiently In hiding.
Then, in fog At the bog By the log, Comes a frog.
Chomp!
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