As I was going up the stair,
I met a god who wasn't there.
He wasn't there again today;
I wish to god he'd go away.
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December
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2 comments:
Then I went down the stair,
a god saw me in my underwear.
Stained wtih mustard and ravioli,
They were old and just plain holy.
Ho Ho Holy, a voice did cry,
Swaddlings aren't your alibi.
I checked the bullrushes only this morn,
Seems to me you come from the corn.
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