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The Obligatory Limericks Game
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When the Crescenters arrive at Rab...
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The poet, ashamed,
on dyslexia blamed,
His failure to lyrically shine
There's naught I like more than to shout
At the lads "C'mon, get it out!"
I'm sometimes surprised [nice one muttleee :-)]
That something so prized
Is so rarely bandied about
You'll get your extremities cold T/s/C/D/C - excellent!
Unless you will do what you're told
So I'm telling you now
Stick your hands in a cow © Dunx
Or a maiden from Stow-on-the-Wold
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Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord