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In fair Verona where we lay our scene, There lived a cat of sly and cunning mien. His fur was bright, a shade of orange bold, And oft he strutted, confident and cold. This cat, named Romeu, roamed the streets at night, With silver moon and stars his only light. He stole from shops and licked his paws with glee, No feline quite as mischievous as he.
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