Surface draft(s).

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