As I was going to St. Ives I met a man with seven lives; Seven lives, In seven sacks, Like seven beeves On seven racks. These seven lives He offered to sell, But which was best He couldn`t tell. He swore with any I`d be happy forever; I bought all seven And thought I was clever, But his parting words I can`t forget: Forever Isn`t over yet.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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