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English She Is Pretty TufThe wind was roughAnd cold and blough, She kept her hands within her mough, It chilled her through, Her nose grew blough, And still the squall the faster flough. And yet, although There was no snough, The weather was a cruel fough. It made her cough, Pray do not scough, She coughed until her hat blough ough.
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Copyright © 1996-2007 by Robert E. Whitsitt, II. Please contact us.
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