Was the former’s grim prediction
Of the latter’s health decline
Resulting from his crooked spine.
"I’m confident,” the doctor said,
“That by tomorrow, you’ll be dead.”
Quasimodo swallowed spit.
(His back was up an extra bit).
“When the bell tolls in the gloom,”
The hunchback growled, "...ask not for whom,
“But if I ring it, as expected,”
“And then, thank God you stand corrected!”
A poem incorporating 5 random words: bit, confident, decline, friction, stand
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