Bong Number One
Bong number one they were off at a run like a warren of rabbits upset by a gun.
Bong number two they were all in a stew, flinging cap after tunic and hose after shoe.
Bong number three they were bare to the knee, undoing the doings as fast as could be.
Bong number four they were stripped to the core, putting on nightshirts the wrong side before.
Bong number five they were looking alive, bizzing and buzzing like bees in a hive.
Bong number six they all gave themselves kicks, tripping over the rushes to put out the wicks.
Bong number seven from Durham to Devon they slipped a quick prayer for revenge up to Heaven.
Bong number eight it was fatal to wait: in the deuce of a state I regret to relate they jumped Bong into bed like a bull at a gate.
Bong number two they were all in a stew, flinging cap after tunic and hose after shoe.
Bong number three they were bare to the knee, undoing the doings as fast as could be.
Bong number four they were stripped to the core, putting on nightshirts the wrong side before.
Bong number five they were looking alive, bizzing and buzzing like bees in a hive.
Bong number six they all gave themselves kicks, tripping over the rushes to put out the wicks.
Bong number seven from Durham to Devon they slipped a quick prayer for revenge up to Heaven.
Bong number eight it was fatal to wait: in the deuce of a state I regret to relate they jumped Bong into bed like a bull at a gate.
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