Ewe No a Lyre

This is my Homophone contest submission Ewe No A Lyre their once was a man with a bore who worked down at the local bizarre the bore eight corn colonels four lunch and blew genes whir awl the man war owe the bore eight serial two from a plait unlike me oar ewe we wood knead a bowl and a spoon ore a mop wood bee totally due won fine weak day mourn wile working he brood tee four the men who maid toys making tee and giving assistants was that witch maid the mane men his buoys his gnu fame was nice and it urned hymn a day too lien back and relax sow he went strait too his sweet and wile still on his feat he eight mince, mustered, pees and bare meet at work he aloud his ant two chute bawl butt four know obvious reason at awl she through bred and plumb pi at the goal he chaste her aweigh butt owe my he felt sow bad sew he cent her to scents and a flour and aloud her two come back inn an our the gilt she felt brought her pane four she new she ode hymn sew much she gathered her teem just inn thyme two sing thank ewe sow very much. win he herd the whey they whir singing it brought a tier too his I he ran too the gait two waive wildly wile screaming a hi pitched buy by. by Rochelle Harris