Being young's a sort of sickness, Measles, mumps or chicken pox. Gather all your toys together, Lock them in a wooden box. That means tolchocks, crasting and dratsing, All of the things that suit a boy. When you build instead of busting, You can start your Ode to Joy. Do not be a clockwork orange, Freedom has a lovely voice. Here is good and there is badness, Look on both, then take your choice. Sweet in juice and hue and aroma, Let's not be changed to fruit machines
( Anthony Burgess )
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