by Dan W.Griffin
’twas Midsummer’s morn, and in a field a little rabbit sat,
Thinking of his life… and other things like that.
He thought of the fields, and of the fish in the sea.
And he thought of the clouds… and of the fridge in the tree.
‘A fridge in a tree?’ said he.  ‘Well what a funny sight!’
And with a CRACK it fell on him, and killed him dead… outright.
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