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Rambles of an old man.
Updated Daily...err weekly. No whenever I feel like it. D:
A Poem For My Fair City.
Each day that passes in our fair town.
History happens.
Who'll write it down?

A job has been posted at city hall.
A poets required to requart it all.

A Oiler cheats on his wife with a bar skank or two.
Why not mark the occasion with a Pronger hico? (sp)

If smitty gets traded or the queen comes to visit.
We must write it down.
Just whose job is it?

A poet is need to give culture a boost.
The city of champions own Dr Seuss.

A salary base at 5000 bucks is sure to attract the weirdos and smucks.

Council says it's a big waste of cash.
Theres pot holes to fill and not enough of the stash.

They say the funds can be better spent.
I say to them why not go get bent.

It's 5000 bucks.
Just a drop in the bucket.
Got a problem with that?
Well you can suck it.


My brilliant poems will put our city on the map.
In the mean time I'll just shut my big yap.





 
 
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