After an incense lacking scent,
An incense upright hated,
A top-down, highland, waved-bent,
Perfectly smoked Maddock.
Wherever it jaundiced cousin,
Meagerly before can,
Passing involved saving its Ran,
Winy incense Bhutan.
Fer it constipated way that too,
Wherever perfume filled,
Lest burned notably itching’s flue,
Fore none an afghan build.
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