The Rhyme
I stand accused in my prime
Of stealing nickels and a dime
But not enough to pay the fine
So, off to prison doing time
Innocent of any crime
I see the fence I need to climb
Shoot to kill says, the sign
I really hope that guard is blind
Standing here seems sublime
Hoping that their lights won't shine
While I crawl through icky slime
Covered in a smelly grime
Praying the alarm don't chime
I made the fence, so far so fine
Slipping over, I crossed the line
As quiet as a church mouse mime
Sorry I had to leave behind
All those that are bound by rhymes
Perhaps I'll do some thing kind
And send them each a case of wine
Made from grapes, near the Rhine
All hand picked from the vine
Tied up with a bow and twine
They could drink it when they dine
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