My colour poem

Green is the colour of the lean string bean

Which I wash squeaky clean.

Green is the colour of the crocodile

Who always makes me run a couple miles.

Italian hills are always bright green;

I’ve been there and it’s what I’ve seen.

Green is the colour of leaves on a glower,

So is the grass below the tower.

Green is the colour of a sour lime,

Green is a colour which is prime.

Green are the leaves on a tree

They seem like they are waving at me.

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