I take the whistle.
It is smooth and hard,
The holes perfectly round:
I let down my guard.

"Shall I play?" I ask them,
And they grin, "Please!"
I start to play a tune,
The notes I gently ease.

A haunting jig emerges
Its melody soaring up high
And they show all their teeth
As they abandon the half-made lie.

The End

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