My Weepinbell washed me away
because it's razor leaf was not up to par.
The parsnips were prude
and the grandeur was rude.
Tasteless apricots are not for you.
My seeds for the garden were eaten by a mouse.
A maiden is fair and yet she shouts.
I gloat at the goats that inspire you
to stab my leg with a cute little knife.
Remove the knife,
wrap my beautiful wound with a
glossy red ribbon,
and we talk about ribonucleic acids.
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