A POEM A DAY
What a day oh what a day,
Some people think I pay...
Pacifistal doudies go out with rhumatism,
As the pigeon craps on Linda,
She goes on with her umbrella,
I think she smella.
Grotesque moomies much on intestines.
Covered with mom's good old gravy.
Red Riders eat movie moguls.
NO MORE POEMS TIL YOU PWINT THE WREST.
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