Ficly

On gluttony

She climbed up to a laden bough
And plucked another peach
Her sticky fingers grabbed them all
As much as she could reach

Then as she stretched for just one more
Or maybe two or three
A volley of white hail came down
Quite unexpectedly

She screamed and tumbled from the tree
Upon her tender head
Her rosy cheeks went winter white
Her bonnet bloomed in red.

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