The executioner is executed
Just as he is going out the door
Another comes up behind him
And beheads him
Placing his head in a casket
His evil is preserved
And then melted down
The distillation yields a silver urn
In which a little boy and girl are born
And fed till fully grown
As if they were his own
And then the wizard sleeps
Sailing back from the moon
And wakes in his own room
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