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Poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Thread the nerves through the right holes; Get out of my bones, you wormy souls. Shut up my stomach, the ribs are full; Muscles be steady and ready to pull. Heart and artery merrily shake, And eyelid go up, for we're going to wake. - His eye must be brighter -one more rub! And pull up the nostrils! his nose was a snub.
Thomas Lovell Beddoes
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