When the murderer spud off!A Poem by andrew mitchell
Of things that go
bump in the night, things go thud as well. It was awful, the massacre we were rounded up, washed, sorted, peeled, and sliced. I saw some diced. What did you do then Mr Spud? Well I rolled up to get help! Who dunnit, any clues? It was McCain’s I know that frozen packaging anywhere! Then what happened? They were showered in chicken salt and baked. It was terrible. No survivors then! No! All were eaten! Poor Mr Wedge and Shoestring! That will be all Mr Spud. © 2024 andrew mitchell |
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1 Review Added on August 9, 2018 Last Updated on May 9, 2024 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more.. |

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