Produced by Suzanne Shell, Christine D and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net A carrion crow sat on an oak, Watching a tailor shape his cloak. "Wife, bring me my old bent bow, That I may shoot yon carrion crow." The tailor he shot and missed his mark, And shot his own sow quite through the heart. "Wife, wife, bring brandy in a spoon, For our old sow is in a swoon."…
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