Down below the apple tree, washed out by the blood flood, head - down in The daisy patch... it was still - born in the mud. Three tiny hands were Stretching, longing for a breast - but it wasn't there. Eight baby lips Were puckered, antennae in the air. Nothing there! Mummy took her lover by His green and purple claw, quite resigned. "Let's try once more. A second Time! Let's try once more..." (practice makes perfect, don't you know...)
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