is solved by Armstrong.
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291
My first is flogged to make it move the faster,
And turns at once to satisfy its master.
My next will ripen as a pleasant fruit,
For those whose simple taste its flavours suit.
My whole, when breezes blow and pennons fly,
Stands up aloft and points us to the sky.
is solved by Top-mast.
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292
A noun there is, of plural number,
In daily use from here to Humber.
Now almost any noun you take
By adding “S” you plural make;
But if you add an “S” to this,
Strange is the metamorphosis!
Plural is plural now no more;
Useless what useful was before.
is solved by Needles, needless.
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