I kid you, not and bid you this:
THESE RHYMES HIT HOT
between the ayes and desperodds
to find Egyptian Bangles nod.
Quite right, quite just. Ask Henley,
Don. He put the show, she stole
my run and Prince's song
was for her heart
a hazy shade.
Icicle dart. So let the zephyrous
malaise Spring. Let magistrates
begin something, but call the court
in no delays. We've got
the whines, okay. OK?
But I'll prefer the Amber
Ales and IPAs from distant
sure. The man heard me give
history, and poured me out
that gin.
Galore
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