For our white and our excellent nights--for the nights of swift
running,
Fair ranging, far seeing, good hunting, sure cunning!
For the smells of the dawning, untainted, ere dew has departed!
...
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Rudyard Kipling? He's my nip-ring! My little pip-pip-squeak, he diddles me quick, king! So I get off, but still he scoffs, and begs me to make that swing.
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Rudyard Kipling? He's my nip-ring! My little pip-pip-squeak, he diddles me quick, king! So I get off, but still he scoffs, and begs me to make that swing.