In the deepest bowels of ships,
Live a group of fatty chips,
Hiding from yon tummies, all,
Will you find them, eat them, y'all?
In the highest treetop sticks,
Live a group of southern hicks,
Hiding from yon leggies, all,
Will you kick them, make them fall?
In the coldest icy snows,
Lives a smart and thinking nose,
Wond'ring if the world will end,
Will you him a postcard send?
Monday, July 5, 2010
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