as emerald city neared,
the old man looked east and west
and then said screw it!
he climbed down;
drawn to the smell
of stewed meat, beans, and fraternity.
Tags: fat of the land and people, pilgrimage, poetry
I’m getting Jig-gy with it lad. A wee bit of a smile came over me just now.
i forgot the beer. shaefer later tonight and
oh yeh, it’s a fish fry.
I could murder haddock and chips.
here come the floor sweepers with smocks behind em
making haddock pogo sticks with a tarter cream filling
or tartar sauce filling.
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