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My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—
It gives a lovely light!— Edna St. Vincent Millay, "First Fig" from A Few Figs from Thistles
There was a young lady from Ryde,
Who ate some green apples and died;
The apples fermented
Inside the lamented,
And made cider inside her inside.— Anonymous