I am not fig plucker nor a fig plucker's son
but I can pick figs, till the fig plucking's done.
Mrs Smiths fish sauce shop,
said the shiny sign as it sank in
Worcestershire sauce.
I slit two sheets, two sheets I slit
I slid between two sheets asleep
To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock,
In a pestilential prison with a life-long lock
Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock
From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big, black block.
The sixth Sheik's sixth sheep is sick
shoe shine city
how much wood could a wood chuck, chuck, if a wood chuck could chuck wood?
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I am not fig plucker nor a fig plucker's son
but I can pick figs, till the fig plucking's done.
Mrs Smiths fish sauce shop,
said the shiny sign as it sank in
Worcestershire sauce.
I slit two sheets, two sheets I slit
I slid between two sheets asleep
To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock,
In a pestilential prison with a life-long lock
Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock
From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big, black block.
The sixth Sheik's sixth sheep is sick
shoe shine city
how much wood could a wood chuck, chuck, if a wood chuck could chuck wood?