The mother gave me sausages,
She gave them with the tea,
She knows that i don't like them,
Couse they don't grewed with me.
She doesn't attention to my feelings,
She does not who I am.
But I'm not good with sausages,
From my play, when I feel pain
I hate sausages,
I hate sausages,
Why doesn't anything rhymes with sausages,
Except sausages...
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