There was a boy, I knew him well,
Ye daughters of Delilah.
His hair was the thickest in all the dell
And long as the river Nile-a.
His hair grew furtive and fast and free,
Snatched up a tender bride
And bore her away for a century
Where the hirsute gods abide.
There they drank nectar and hoar-frost tea
And she combed his curls in a dream
And no one asked what became of the she
Whose locks were as rich as cream.
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