Still scowling black
good Captain Clack
must eat his humble pie
His bed is made
the colours fade
his eyes once wet are dry
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The naked muse
who sits and chews
tobacco off a tree
removes his shoes
gives way to booze
and searches endlessly
See the naked jumberlack
sip his aphrodisiac
Cotton-picking farmers three
Though I lost my weather vane
and of sense I have one grain
I'm content sipping lemon tea
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