Humphrey turned the wagon around, noticing the ravens that lined the road. Pruck, pruck, pruck. |
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The egg drops out of the ovary, is pressed down the tubes toward the uterus. The sound is pruck pruck pruck pruck. |
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We were moochin' some pruck in a Pollock Dock shed, when he crashed to the ground and in minutes was dead. |
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Remember that wee shop in Dublin sold the great yellowman? We always bought some forthe train journey home. Look, there's a photo of us all in the station. Laden with pruck. |
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