Wye 2 Konfabulation
Wye, 2 Konfabulation
Come folk; gather to my proboscis
And hark to my impending psychosis.
Tonight is December thirty-fust,
Something is about to bust.
\The clock is crouching, ready to pounce;
Of pity it'll not give an ounce.
This way comes rapacity, penury.
Duck, here comes another century.
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