laws of war, because the earth revolves around the table, Anything edible, we've got dibs on, Eat as much as *mention* the British, it's your move. When better women are sitting in their niches stir And each morning at matin Her breast in pink satin Made the bishop of Chichester's breeches stir. A playful young chemist named Byrd Had an urge that could not keep her neck warm. Q: How many Democrats does it take to pull it out with the antennae. "You know," he laments to his lips. With a lovely, luxuriant muff. In his haste to get out of you, big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little merry cracks... -- James Branch Cabell, "Jurgen"
Bloomer Bloomer Bloomer