by Dan W.Griffin

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’twas Midsummer’s morn, and in a field a little rabbit sat,
Thinking of his life… and other things like that.

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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.

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‘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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