Pom 23 in a Pub (spouting nonsense)

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"The Bard is my skipper
I shall not vaunt
He maketh me write down in green passages;
He seedeth me inside with brill thought bursts;
He re-scoreth my droll weak peevish reason
with paths to righteous blessed forests, aimed straight.
Yea, though I'm mocked - through the doubts - slow of breath
I will steer no eve ill:
Fourth hour, tweet me!
Tired, odd, and thighs tapped... what the hey - come for me!
The helper barista, 'Tay,' bows before me in the presence of my nimble speech
Ow! Annoying test - my head will boil!
Mike! Up! Run Beth home, nerd!
Shirley! Good Nessie! Merci! Michelle, Paul - you owe me!
Aww! The dazed awful lights!
In aisle twelve is a mouse and the Bard's sure clever!"

Created: Jun 02, 2012


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