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Poet's Choice

Alas, Alack!

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Ann, Ann!

Come! quick as you can!

There's a fish that talks

In the frying-pan.

Out of the fat,

As clear as glass,

He put up his mouth

And moaned "Alas!"

Oh, most mournful,

"Alas, alack!"

Then turned to his sizzling,

And sank him back.

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