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Poor, dear, sweet Abraham Jones, the only girl in the fourth grade named after her father’s favorite president.
The sweet little girl with the unusual name,
Whose father, some whispered, was slightly insane,
Asked very few questions and was exceedingly quiet,
Except for just once, when she started that riot.
The odd little girl called Abraham Jones,
Was popular amongst the town’s cicerones;
“She’s allergic to flip phones, make a call and you’ll see
That she’ll puff up just like she’s been stung by a bee;”
So the tourists would dial and fill the air with ringtones,
Just to watch Abraham swell 'round her thin little bones.
Minimalist Jones once came down with a cold
And was laid up for weeks, or so I am told;
His head was quite stuffy, his eyes runny and red
So his daughter, little Abraham, sent him straight to his bed,
Where he coughed and he sputtered and blew his sore nose
And built a mountain of tissues, I hear, which was quite grandiose,
And his sneezes, they say, could be heard for twelve blocks,
And came out so hard they would blow off his socks.
Abraham Jones learned so much more about marine biology whilst her face was placed firmly against the keyboard, lips on the space bar, mind in the ocean, wearing nothing but fishnets, swimming in coral reefs with cetaceans, with only one breath, singing with crabs and jellyfish, then when it’s just the textbook open.
The petite little girl called Abraham Jones
Weighed almost nothing - doctors blamed hollow bones;
So on windy days she’d just float around in the air,
Unless her father remembered to tie weights to her hair.
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