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Poem

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There was an Old Man on a hill,

Who seldom, if ever, stood still;

He ran up and down,

In his Grandmother's gown,

Which adorned that Old Man on a hill.

 

There was a Young Lady whose chin,

Resembled the point of a pin;

So she had it made sharp,

And purchased a harp,

And played several tunes with her chin.

 

Limerick 7

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