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Nancy Manxome Wifle

The Manxome little Minx Stood beneath illustrious Boa-bob tree She scratched her left butt cheek With grazed grass stained knees Stared pon the ghostly forms gibbering with fear That Nancy (her name) might manhandle their ears And drag them petrified, within her Boa-bob bar Unvisited by good-folk... being so far Within a dusted deserted dessert dry plane Exhausted generosity, she was repeating again On meringue peach dust, must run for their freedom Avoiding the clutches, of most the dreaded kingdom Gunshot start!... The banshee chase... As spirits in fear race off again The pursuit was a violent fearfilled reign Escaping her clutches, unashamed unabashed The result was a grizzly, grassfilled dash Spiritless, hopeless, hapless no lie Till Nancy little Minxie, did wiffle by And grabbing the sweet candy, she did so desire Dragging her victim, to Hell by her Boa-bob fire Spirit screamed, twas a sordid, torturous affair Then Nancy Manxome Minxie re-emerged Brushing her hair...

Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

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