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There is a place (believe me,
she said) where if, if
you go beyond
the street lights, to the lane's end,
The living room remembers Gran dancing to Count Bessie.The kitchen can still hear my aunts fighting on Christmas Day.The hall is worried about the loose banister.
Nobody knows what Jonjo knows. Nobody knows but he,So Jonjo took me for a walk and showed his world to me.
I went to the shopto get me a carrotOh dear!They gave me a parrot.
Oh dear!Look what I gotDo I want that?No I do NOT!
Once upon a plomThere lived a poor little momAlong with her children three.There was a great big GomA Flom and a ChomWho all sang, "Me, me, me."
In our flatfaces speakof places across the sea.
In our flatvoices walk intalking, but not like me.
Peter the orange parrothad a very tiny beak,unlike the other parrotshe was never heard to speak.But they were never nasty to him,Peter the non-talking parrot
The night was as dark as an ink well,For the moon had gone visiting elsewhere,But by the scuffling sounds around me,I knew there was someone there.
Please Mrs ButlerThis boy Derek DrewKeeps copying my work, Miss.What shall I do?
Don't be so glum,plum.
Don't feel beaten.
You were made to be eaten.
But don't you knowthat deep within,beneath your juicy fleshand flimsy skin,