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
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