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A demon took a scalding hot bathAnd poured in heaps of bubbles for a laugh,But then it overflowedThrough their South Downs abodeAnd he incurred some angelic wrath.Aziraphale had been quietly readingWhen he had an uncanny feelingThat something was amissIn their domestic bliss.The flood of bubbles left him seething.“Did you have to pour quite so many?My dear, just a dollop is plenty.”With a snap and a sighThe floor was now dry.Crowley said sorry with a kiss or twenty.