Day 13
Hallow's prevening and wellcomb to the News at Once.
Stop that you're screwing at, mind your yodelling,
Fasten up the back-fat and buttress all them grebes,
What we're all been wailing for has, at last, come fourth,
Yes! That moob of Juniper, what we all know and love,
Galileo's chickaboo; she that orbles removely;
She that spangles sexy like so many bubbly suds,
Has, down the pike, thrust herself forth like a whack.
Yes, she's on her while! Brushing a gut!
Like a flapper! Soon she'll be slowing right up
With balls on - So - Handle to your hanks!
Oh, do you feel those shimbers in the hull of your plimsolls?
Hear the bright wattle of pomp a-riding in your ears?
See the hump of sweet moppets, faces furled out to the sky,
Like hot knickers on a wishing line,
Slurbing grovelly at the atmoscheer?
Meagre to see - Here - Calypso! - Among her many glordies.
Soon she'll dismound the sparks and suddle right up
Like an afternoon snood.
And then what will Old Nan say?
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