To my jaw bebawlthered boy on the morn ‘ter his displeasure

Though you haven’t many tomorrows yet

–futuretalk leaves you cold–

pain marooned unceasing in your jaw

does it seem to last forever?

yet, out of this little pain

will grow some mighty chomps!

O my toothless son!

Your tongue will soon have many friends

grin festooned with many tooths

joys of crunch and clack and chew

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