Trials
When on the grill Do sit still And wait until The sage and dill Aroma fill. Foot the bill Till self is nil Well done…
When on the grill Do sit still And wait until The sage and dill Aroma fill. Foot the bill Till self is nil Well done…
There’s a bog called the morgue Whence I slog blurred senses wince. I trip on logs Get caught in cogs I think I’ll blog To flee the fog The brutal flog Low, low, Low on the hog
Weed whacker, weed whacker Whack me the weed that sowed me its seed. Breaking my back is its plan of attack. With asthma I hack when I’m trying to yack. It’s sharp as a tack in my full gunny sack. I will not concede or plead. Recede! I will be freed, will succeed, guaranteed!
Crazy, crazy, give me your answer do I’m half daisy much like a kangaroo I have me a lazy phrasey much better than a carriage turn up the heat and keep the beat while playing the didgeridoo.
The Rubik’s Cube is so much fun, In a minute I am done. Now Pard is Nashing. He refuses to have his picture taken but this is his bona fide cube.Narf!
That was some lousy sleep Asleep? No! A sleep No sleep This one’s for my sister Laura D. who twins with me even in this realm.