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Sunday, November 1, 2020

Runcibl'd Spooner: "You're Nick'd!"

In London's the headquarters housing the cops
who give scofflaws 'n' crim'nals 'what for.'
Scotland Yard
     A firebug has lit up our lux'ry boat store,
destroying its whole second floor.
Yachtland's scarr'd.
     Moral:
Crime doesn't pay. Still, anchors aweigh!

Of Pontiffs, Personas and Potables: A Rhyme Spree

Each verse in the  poem  below selects  from two to four  beverages ("pick'd  poisons"), the  last- mentioned of which  is alw...