MY finger-nails grow on my fingers, and My fingers are fixed firmly to my hand. It is my hand that terminates my arm, And that sticks to my shoulder like a charm. My shoulder is a portion of my trunk. I hope no prostitute, however drunk, Would end the shocking sequence. Yet we find, Even in England, men of evil mind, Pornographers who love obscene details, Shameless enough to mention finger-nails.
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