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Poems of my cousin, Ura May
Rats to Comb Out


“I want some of the candy you bought?”
“Candy makes your teeth rot.”
“Just a little piece?” I tease.
“Well, then, say please?”

My cousin, Ura May, was a softy,
Even when she was trying to be lofty.

“Come let me comb your hair?”
She waved a comb and pointed to chair.
“Why?” I knew it was impolite to sass,
“So you will be a lovely lass.”

“My hair is beautiful and neat,” I said.
She replied, “If you can ignore the rat’s head.”

Oh that was a terrible thing to think about.
The very thought of having rats to comb out,
But, it worked every time you see,
Ura May once more had me on her knee.


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