Bill To Pay On a Hill
As she felt the thrills,
Fanned out big nostrils,
Triumphant shout shrill...
No chef her son drills
But now meat he grills,
Fulfilled mum's song shrill!
Now,Daughter weaves frills
And as she does trills!
Son, Men took for dumb;
When he was born,numb;
Daughter worse than crumb
With the clumsiest thumb...
Rose shall climb a hill
To pay God's Praise Bill!
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