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Bard Full of Lard
The lonely fool drifts seaward
Feeling sick, he hangs to leeward
This bard
Tis full of lard
To leave his calling card
Like he's some dumb retard
So let's send him toward
When you loose your pluck
Some quiet hospital ward
Behind his back his hands they'll tie
Make him live in a pigsty
Untill the day he die
And no one will ever cry
Though to heaven his soul will fly
While eating butter and tasted rye
And nay even a slice of pie
I've got the munchies, cause I'me high
Hope this poem somebody will buy
If not I'll be high and dry!
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