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Fronds of Foilage Green

by Todd McCafferty

Ding-along for a wild ride to the expanses of my seascape sleep
I sing a dong for donkey lads and menopausean peep
Travel to the sloppy shore under the blighted fun-yun tree
And there you shall whistle while the whistle whistles three

Drink a swig of surly stout, or wash a dram of malt
When you bunk your white-laced dome, don't blame me a fault
Ticker trains and washing bins made to please the dowager keep
Ding-along for a wild ride to the expanses of my seascape sleep

Final folly around the bend, sunk into the Firth of Forth
Be a sailor or a slow-man, compass shouting sup or north
Bide your wavy wind-blown diction for the giant ginger rock
Yo biznitches, I bet y'all want to suck my big fat cock?









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