As I was going to St. Ives
I met a man with seven lives;
Seven lives,
In seven sacks,
Like seven beeves

People live forever in Jacksonvil
But you don’t have to live forever
The entrance requirements for gram
You only have to live until your c
From that point on you start looki

The cow is of bovine ilk;
One end is moo, the other is milk.

The people upstairs all practise b
Their living room is a bowling all
Their bedroom is full of conducted
Their radio is louder than yours,
They celebrate week-ends all the w

How pleasant to sit on the beach,
On the beach, on the sand, in the
With ocean galore within reach,
And nothing at all to be done!
No letters to answer,

Now another day is breaking,
Sleep was sweet and so is waking.
Dear Lord, I promised you last ni
Never again to sulk or fight.
Such vows are easier to keep

To keep your marriage brimming,
With love in the loving cup,
Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;
Whenever you’re right, shut up.

One thing that literature would be
Would be a more restricted employm
metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Gre
Can’t seem just to say that anythi

In fourteen hundred and ninety-two
Someone sailed the ocean blue.
Somebody borrowed the fare in Spa
For a business trip on the boundin
And to prove to the people, by act

Bound to your bookseller, leap to
Deluge your dealer with bakshish a
Lean on the counter and never say
Wodehouse and Wooster are with us
Flourish the fish-slice, your butt