Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.

The excitement died as I fried the wide salmon.

He climbed up, up, up in the tree.

The pitter-patter of little feet on the wooden board.

Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered weak and weary

I heard the pop as the bubble bursts and dripped to the floor.

The ill minister did not feel his best.

We want to wish the best for everyone.

Ten women asked to mend the tear in the banner.

The snake hissed a warning to the traveler.

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