Wacha' up to Prawn, you slippery cocktail bite?
you from the bay
And now you want to give me cheek;
I've got a
headache, eh, get lost!
Ah Stumpy, be a sport, don't take it wrong,
It's just that this here cache has caught a cold
And coughed up
destinations off the map.
Cache? Cold? Cough up? You're raving kid,
Your words are Irish
The Warrior held up a patient hand;
Enough, you ought to
know, each footprint shows,
Each journey tells its tale, each
keystroke leaves a sign
Where thoughts have spun. Why hide?
is the path you took, but what a path!
…to be continued
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