Monday, April 18, 2011

bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbacrossbbbbbbbbbbbbbbacross many a meadlow ze minstrel came baring song and dance to whom remained in the fields of old where snow fell slow and goose bumps ran frum head to toe.............a troubodour of rags and rogs..a soul poet  an aimless nog................
one who came from the blinding light and difusewd into the lunar stripes.........echoing on sultry swamps like pompodoures on earthly romps........dancing about to the song of the toads and getting lost on opld bakroads

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