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BLACK BUTTERFLY
POETRY, PROSE AND PAINTINGS
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THE GOBLIN'S HOLIDAY.
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He's been packing for weeks, his nastiest spells, his bag full of wasps, his tin of bad smells, his up the creek road map and wrong time tables, his stickiest toffee and wrong address labels.
And he hasn't forgotten the well to do folk who jet off to Paris with luggage he broke. Nor the nice little lady, who saves all the year for her two weeks in Bangor, the weather is drear.
There's a tooth ache for Billy, a head ache for Pat and a smashing big wind for Grandma's new hat. There's some boredom for Lucy, big fat spiders for mum, and a lovely flat battery. Holidays are such fun!
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