I
had a second beer, oh dear,
But now I’ve made it home.
Yet what is very clear, I fear,
Is I can’t write a poem.
But now I’ve made it home.
Yet what is very clear, I fear,
Is I can’t write a poem.
My
brain is not in gear, so here
Is all that I’ve composed.
Whatever does appear, I fear’s
Ineptitude exposed.
Is all that I’ve composed.
Whatever does appear, I fear’s
Ineptitude exposed.
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