When I was hawking with my Welch buddies
We caught 11 rodents on this social outing
I sensed it wasn’t enough
Because my best bud, Jim, was pouting.
We climbed into the van
And roved over country land.
When we hit the river, Jim became the killer
Sending some fish to the fire
And some to the orthocenter.
Now with all our joint forces
We have fish, rodents and horses,
And our dinner is a bountiful metamorphosis.
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