For Siring Not Castrating
M
Mark Heathcote
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He ran a sword
Through her hair
To have his
Scalps reward.
"A pretty, girl, then said".
It needed (a better scabbard.)
"One more deserving
Of a country bunking,
Whose threesomes were now folklore"?
But what he wanted—
Were new ways to scythe?
Bale his hay fork into fresh-wet straw.
Bu şiiri puanla
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