one chap (no churl)
dons skirts of pearl;
tight folds, unfurling,
form a curl;
he twirls, they swirl.
If me, I’d hurl;
but dervish, whirling,
gets the girl.
There'll dawn one day I 'll not ignore, like none the world's e'er seen before. 'Twill shake the world unto its core...
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