ring a ring of roses
dreaming while she dozes
a-tishoo, a-tishoo
we all come to

since when the dream is done
we all awaken, every one
then blink and fall asleep again
while strange dark thoughts flit through the brain

mary, mary quite contrary
how does your garden grow?
in a ring, of course, and the same again
of roses short and tall

and mary, did your little lamb
have fleece as white as snow?
it did, but stained with petals red
the ring is where she’d go.

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Basically, I deal in words.

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