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Tuesday, 6 September 2011

What a hoot!

Paul Barford, burning bright,
In the woodlands of the night,
Machine in hand, and digging deep,
Excited by a bleep , bleep ,bleep,
Night owls descend upon the land,
On scheduled sites, the shadowed hand,
Nigel calls him with a hoot,
To indicate he’s found some loot,
Paul dressed head to foot in black,
With shit on head, piled in a stack,
They’ll never see me with this disguise,
his head is covered with shitty flies,
As they rummage through the grass,
Nigel slips one up Paul ‘s arse,
Must be some sort of night time attraction,
As Nigel writes for hemorrhoid action,
A gripping thriller, if you have no brain,
But read by archies, all the same.

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