She used to sell seashells upon the seashore.

She used to sell seashells

upon the seashore;

but, now,

she sells seashells no more –

not since she saw a sea-saw, there.

Perhaps it was the cheap wine

that she drank,

or the downturn in demand

for seashells;

but, when she started hallucinating,

she knew,

that she,

had sold her last sea frippery.

Now, she lives in a hut on the hill,

centuries have passed,

but she lives there still;

if you should see her,

give her a wave,

she’s sure to wave back,

though her features be grave.

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