| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - When walking down the street one day, A post-box passed me by, It cast a sideways glance at me, And then said with a sigh, ???I???m sick to death of Christmas tide, It gives me little joy, I???m stuffed with letters and cards all day, And many a kind of toy???. ???They fill me up with paper and string, Inside I???m in a state, What I need is something nice Like cheesecake on a plate; I cannot stan
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