.
What have we here, laddie? Mysterious scribblings? A secret code? No, poems, no less! Poems, everybody! The laddie reckons himself a poet!

Money get back
I'm all right, Jack
Keep your hands off my stack
New car
Caviar
Four star daydream
Think I'll buy me a football team.

Absolute rubbish, laddie. Get on with your work.
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