Five daughters with silken locks,
Blonde, brunette and mousey.
Smooth and polished,
And brushed to a high lustre.
Their hair blooms like their fresh young faces.
Yet the price of this natural beauty
Hours of brushing.
Untangling of tenacious knots .
The wriggles and squeals,
As the matted is liberated.
And of course there are the bands.
The hair-ties without metal,
Guaranteed to not to break any fragile strands,
Yet not to disappear without a trace,
Like hundreds of their contemporaries.
Somewhere within the confines of this house.
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