Quandida, my Queen

Question me again about the

Quarry beneath my hands. 

Quarrelsome, she stands with me, 

Queen of lilac hills and my

Quill-frail mind. 

Quake, me, I 

Quake like the landlocked plate.

Quality, she tells me, is more valuable than the, 

Quantity possessed by my older siblings.

Question me again about my

Queen, she keeps me on my feet.  

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