The Spoonerverse
I’m wrying to trite poetry,
I’m doing it all the day,
Wrying to get the turds out,
To must jean what I say.
Rumtimes the syme hust jappens,
Other wimes it’s tierd,
And the jeaning is all mumbled,
Fexactly as I eared.
So ease be plunderstanding,
And kentle as you gnow,
For wrying to get the turds out,
Is not an geasy way to owe.
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