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I am a draper mad with love.
I love you more than all the flannelette and calico, candlewick, dimity, crash and merino, tussore, cretonn, crepon, muslin, poplin, ticking and twill in the whole Cloth Hall of the world.
I have come to take you away to my Emporium on the hill, where the change hums on wires.
Throw away your little bedsocks and your Welsh wool knitted jacket, I will warm the sheets like an electric toaster, I will lie by your side like the Sunday roast.