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56
THE GLUGS OF GOSH
But every dawn that paints the sky.
And every splendid noontide high.
All know the Glugs so well, so well.
'Tis an easy matter, and plain to tell.
For, lacking wit, with a candour smug,
A Glug will boast that he is a Glug.
And they climb the trees, if it shines or rains.
To settle the squirming in their brains.
And the darting pains
That are caused by rushing and catching trains.
