| Reba sink a boulder in the water
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| Reba tie a cable to a tree
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| Reba stuck in a game of lipstick perfume flypaper
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| Reba press a razor to a slide cross a needle with a prune
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| Knee deep in the motel tub
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| Reba dangle ladle form her lip
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| Dip
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| Sip
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| Reba babble to the nag with the lipstick perfume
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| Mutter to a farmer in a truck
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| Take a peek at the cheetah, Reba
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| Cheetah on the prowl in a cage
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| Sink a boulder in the water
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| Tie a cable to a tree
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| Mutter «nature» to the nag
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| With the lipstick perfume
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| Reba flush a fleshfarm leftover
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| Thunder in a circle
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| Down the pipes
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| Bag it
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| Tag it
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| Sell it to the butcher in the store
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| Reba put a stopper in the bottom of the tub
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| Picked up a jar unscrewed the top
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| And watched it drop into the water
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| A little scoop of plaster mix
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| Some coffee grounds and mud
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| And then she stirred it with the ladle
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| That her Grandmother had bought her
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| Threw in a pot of melted wax
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| A forefoot and a hoof
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| Apple core, worms galore
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| And a can of some corrosive
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| Coconuts and chloroform
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| Some wicker and some cork
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| Toxic waste, some purple paste
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| She hoped was not explosive
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| Reba dip a ladle for a taste of her creation
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| And she knew that what she made
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| Would be the finest in the nation |