In this car called history,
We can act up,
Wriggle about,
On the back seat,
Make a bit of noise,
Sing a song or two,
But we will not change,
Its' destination,
One,
Little,
Bit.
He was borne on a branch The low hanging fruit Of the curse The bushel that hung from nails Trellising tight stems to the frame Spurs offer...
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