8000
alt tear knitted title –
how I i.e. Cinder Fella spent thee better part of January 4th 2018
hey yo' Donald, one suggestion
to make America great again,
would be to groupthink, draft,
and assign a domestic deftone accord,
where the man of the house (or bachelor)
spends hours applying elbow grease
to scrub vigorously any stubborn stain
using a handy dandy blues clues wash board,
and during faux pas, sans station identification
give this John Doe (while taking –
while he and ye take a knee),
applauding, displaying how much he iz adored
thence demanding, (while he gets handed a mop and pail),
plus hire spongebob square pants if Yukon afford
(the competitive fee he requires),
or roughly equivalent payment, where gourd
(takes the place of precious metal
as legal viz edible tender)
traced back to fore fathers and their horde
of wives, whose reverence idolized
via husbands infatuation (and secret crush) toward
singer songwriter Lourde
dez, who at a young age scored
major deals
with prominent recording studios, and toured
across the webbed, wide world
receiving many an a ward
which Australian “Queen Bee”
put pep in the step of house broken good fellas forced
to grovel for Arthur Treacher's fish and chips prithee
regarding being an outstanding kitchen helper
buffer hitting the sack (of potatoes)
on the menu for every Fry day cooking spree.
