When pies, like
cases, open, that’s when birds begin
to sing.
Once pies go in
the oven, then those birds cannot take
wing.
When pies are
mere ideas, even then I pooh-pooh
cakes.
Not every lad
and lass can boast an Uncle Sven who
bakes.
If Sven won’t
don his apron, Uncle Sten we'll need to arm.
No doubt we’ll
need to stun Sven only – not do
lethal harm.
When piemen
choose to shun their duties, we’ve
no option but…
to force each guy to make a pie. (And now this case is
shut.)
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Aeneid Anagram Mania
I sing of arms and the man... ...not his farm and gas mine... (This is a tale of heroes in war, not agribusiness and the energy sector.)
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Composed and illustrated in 2019, each verse of poetaster Ulysses ("Uly") Poe's illuminated nonsense lyric "What A's ...
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