She took to the hills
Like a Flemish diagonalist,
A lime green bird in oak,
Skittler of the ominous log,
Off-line swerver of the
Travelers' caravanpment,
With a severe case of clout.
The pointer pissed,
Then chased an absolute.
She shotgunned under the
Right angle tree clearing,
To show what we know,
Couldn't half kick a ball though,
In the light going out.
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