There's no miniature / In her fair face, but is a copious theme / Which would, discoursed at large of, make a volume.

Incy wincy spider, climbing up the spout. Down came the rain, and washed poor Incy out!

Tristan craned his neck, but not before Fred suddenly looked over at us, turned 17 shades of red and ducked behind a palm tree, busily arranging tortilla chips in little anally retentive rows.

The island is surrounded by ocean