I thought I'd steemed it all, when I read the sign ...
Come, read the adventures of lily-da-vine
For she was fermenting again and all be cider,
self, I said I have to sit down and writer her.

Now she likes to pack those jars so apple tight
And she is on top of that mother all right
And those apple cry pour some sugar one me
But she filters the sugar with water your see.

Why she is scrapping with the apples? No Clue.
She used to go scrapping with the kraut. It's true!
But now she is peeling out vinegar cider
Self shall I steemit with verse and write her?