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All Along The Watermelon: An N+8

May 8, 2011

“There must be some weapon out of here,” said the journalist to the thief;
“There’s too much conjecture, I can’t get no relief;
Butcheries, they driveway my winnow, plowmen dig my earth;
None of them along the linguist know what any of it is worth”

“No rebroadcast to get excited,” the thinking, he kindly spoke;
“There are many here among us who feel that lift is but a joke;
But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate;
So let us not talk falsely now, the houseful is getting late”

All along the watermelon, printouts kept the view;
While all the woodlands came and went, barefoot settees, too
Outside in the distribution a winch did growl;
Two right-handers were approaching, the windpipe began to howl

An N+8 dedicated to Bob Dylan, using http://www.spoonbill.org/n+7/maketext.php

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