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There once was a traveller named __ __ __ __ .
(It's easy to say, but not easy to write.)
He'd often chant stories in musical verse,
A style that is verging on boring, (but worse,)
And he'd talk, if you'd listen, well into the night,
That mischievous, marvellous __ __ __ __
His stories were sprinkled with liberal smells.
There really is scents to the nonsense he tells,
And if you felt cold, then a yarn he would spin,
That would keep you wrapped up from the end to begin.
Then he'd throw you a line, and you'd fly like a kite.
A wonderful showman was __ __ __ __!
Copyright © 1980 - 2020 Peet Ellison
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