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Inside walls white as milk,
Lined with skin soft as silk,
In a fountain crystal clear,
A golden apple does appear.
No doors are there to this stronghold-
Yet thieves break in and steal the gold.
What am I?
Lined with skin soft as silk,
In a fountain crystal clear,
A golden apple does appear.
No doors are there to this stronghold-
Yet thieves break in and steal the gold.
What am I?
