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The turnip scurried away from the
Market stall, shedding tears of despair
Which splashed the brand new shoes
Of the market inspector.
'Why do you cry Mister Turnip?'
'I am unsold and therefore my life has no meaning'
Replied the failed turnip.
He bid the market inspector farewell and jumped
Under the wheels of the passing cab he'd just hailed
And became sustenance for the hovering pigeons,
Which cooed an elegy of gratitude for his sacrifice. |
