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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 21:54:21 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 67566
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Burglar
[time] => 2004-10-15 14:40:19
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => The burglar was dressed in hoops of black and red, He stole through gardens whilst others were in bed, And he adorned a black mask like burglars do, A swag bag, a crowbar, a shifty sideways glance too. His target was number seventeen in Lower Street, Through years of guile he went softly on his feet, The aim was to try the obvious in at the front door, Then to move around the house towards first floor. Now the burglar, who was called Bill by name, Couldn't read or write which was quite a shame, Because he wasn't able to read the note on the door, Which as plans go was one hell of a flaw. The first sign he got was a snarl as he tried a lock, Then a slobbering bark left him in deep shock, In such pain in the deadly jaws of a large mutt, But as the note truthfully said, "My dog bites butt". [comments] => 2 [counter] => 163 [topic] => 7 [informant] => jonteD [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 2 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => HumorPoetry )
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