Don’t be so glum, plum.
Don’t feel beaten.
You were made to be eaten.
But don’t you know deep within,
Beneath your juicy flesh and flimsy skin,
You bear a mystery,
You hold a key,
You have the making of a whole new tree.
For years I led a dreary life! The days passed slowly, one by one; I fed the ducks, reproved my wife, Played Handel's Largo on the fife,...
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