Peter Piper was ever punctilious, like minty nature's painstaking paintings,
Or the palsied skies of one pretty evening, in the hour of the sun's fainting.
Peter lived upon a small, fertile farm, and was one of five, happy children;
The son of loving, hardworking parents, jointly working until dusk, silken.
They tended cows, pigs and chickens, and farmed potatoes...
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