… in conversation she readily shifts …

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I will tell you this much. Of the trees going round em abouts. Do not trip on the roots of the language hoard – Maud. Don’t get me wronged was the song to sing.

Cut your tongue out you dirty bastard.

Sure you win some … expire the hunt. Run the hounds to the ring. Oh noooo you don’t.

Later blue tits are calling. Out.

And then. Go inside Go inside she said.

                             from Conversational Poetry- majena mafe


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