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90 IUD On explosion God’s crowded plantation Squats, sending us need To rid weed Leaving Wheat Neat; Discard archeologists’ silly Cradle of Lucy: The grime With a crime, Its pigment. Ridding him, insufficient, With AIDS transfer, And since depletion was no worker, IUD is voted best herbicide Sending them off sight Till They’re still To languishing…. They’re minority, Misery Piled up stone With no scone Nor tea To bait Mr. Wrunger Giving them hunger; And to these plants stressing Forgiving and loving Directing these to his pet Not to the withering weed Hanging on the street It is no liver Just a condoning lover. After resistance, Shall ye concur this new stance? ...

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