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This fellow called Fred,
Instead of a head,
Had a turnip on top of his neck

And the children would jeer,
For he looked pretty queer,
And the grown-ups would shout ‘bloody heck!’

Twas a troublesome sight,
To go walking at night,
And stumble upon the strange chap

So to stem the surprise,
In shocked onlookers eyes,
Fred fashioned himself a large cap

Then he drove into town,
But with his hat down,
He couldn’t see where he was headed

A terrible crash,
Turned Fred’s head to mash,
Yes, he was most certainly deaded

The moral herein,
Is that one cannot win,
When ashamed of one’s natural quirks

So parade them with pride,
Never hide them inside,
For fear of offending life’s jerks

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