Two pence, four pence, six pence, a buck.
Mike Pence...? No sense. So-o-o-o dense: yuck!
Whence our defense 'gainst this schmuck,
this prince 'mongst bad gents Pence...? Good luck!
Poet Poe pens nonsense verse. "...plus phun," puns Uly, "I disburse." Its gamut runs from spam to worse. The matter posted...? Poe's diverse -- most, postcards from his universe, replies to grudges he must nurse. My summary...? Let me be terse: a mitzva, mostly. (Not a curse.)
Tuesday, May 15, 2018
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Rev'd Spooner Meets Rev'd Carroll
He sought to thaw each thought he saw flee, frozen, from his mind. He peer'd again, then gear'd his pen, supposin' he'd...
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PWWL is pleased to acknowledge the participation of friend-of-blog JD in creating this item. Collaboration in name, collaboration in pro...
