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The Journal of Terry Olynik

THE (ALMOST) PERFECT RHYME
11/26/2005 02:06 p.m.
Little Johnny,
With a grin,
Drank up
All of mommy's gin.
Mommy said
When he was plastered,
Go to bed
You little love child.
I am currently Quiet
I am listening to More Quiet.

Member Comments on this Entry
Posted by Paganini Jones on 12/03/05 at 10:22 AM

*hysterical laughter*

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