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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 13-June 00:39:48 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 9064
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => CABRITO
[time] => 2002-12-22 09:00:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Her eyes were cold and harsh,
Which made them tough to chew. Her bones are in the marsh, We'll make them into glue. Her head made such a squarsh, Her brains we saved for stew. Her liver, Oh My Gawrsh, Was good and tasty, too! I'm done with -arsh as rhyme, We slaked her bones in lime! Her legs were as tough as a pair o' thongs, Like she'd run in a half dozen marathongs! Her 'white meat' was tasty, though dry, rather, One guest said 'No, thank you, why bother?' Her feet and her ears made good chowder, One guest said that it really wowed her! Our chef cannot do us much prouder, Applause for him kept getting louder! Her last bath that we had allowed her, Made her shoulder meat taste of flea powder! Join us next month at our Table d'hote, We certainly serve up a tasty goat! [comments] => 3 [counter] => 208 [topic] => 7 [informant] => Freewheeling_Franklin [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 7 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry )
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