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A chocolate cake she didn't like to eat;
she much preferred tortilla chips with lime.
She was not picky; eating was sublime
with her; I must admit it was a treat.
Her shoes were shined; I rather liked her feet.
A gleaming silver wristwatch kept the time
that I devoted to this girl sublime;
her golden leather sandal kept the beat.
Her lips, they wore a color dark as coal;
disturbing was her necklace, sharp as teeth.
Her toes, a bloody red, would bother me.
She would not hesitate to climb the pole
of our dear flag; she'd fall down underneath.
Oh, my sweet Melanthara, I hate thee.