There was once a crooked woman
Who had a crooked vice
She peddled all her jewels
For a pinch of magic spice
She added it all to her custard
And served it to her mate
And when her lover ate it all
She took a pickaxe to his pate
Then she sat back to smoke a joint
And blew rings into the air
And weaved the flowers of the spring
Into her greying hair
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