Tort
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Andy and George were two young boys
Stuck in a class with no toys.
Bored and ready to go
The time was ticking way too slow.
Reaching across the aisle for a tap.
Hit poor Andy under the shin cap.
There once were three mice
Summers, Simon and Tice
And all day long, they would hunt for quail
Through fog and rain, snow and hail.
In a straight line, they marched as one
Up and down the marshy run
