On the bruise-purple Ybbs the walrus was rowing a boat with his flippers, sunning his tusks and bleaching his moustache, and he didn't see the hippo who lurked in the deep pool by the bank- the disguised hippo in a veil of froth, mouth agape for the walrus, rowboat and all.
I woke up to warn the walrus; the giraffes had munched the meadow until
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