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[05 Nov 2006|12:14pm] |
Welcome to the din. It's noisy with words and I still haven't got this fucking iambic pentameter worked out. I must have lost a few brain cells somewhere. Probably when in a pub.
Let's try it.
St GEORGE, out on, the TILES, one NIGHT. SAW a DRAGon,all DRUNK, on the, FLOOR, so HE, inSTEAD, of KILLING it, LET it, SLEEP on, his CARPET, IN the, MORNing, he LOOKED, at HIS, old WATCH, and SAID, LOOK, DRAgon, it's FIVE, IN the, MORNing, and THE, bloodHOUNDS, will BE, after YOU, what WITH, all THOSE, hard DRUGS, you've STILL, got ON, you, SO, talk TO, the PORter, and HE'll, direct YOU, to the, ESCape slide, it'll TAKE you, RIGHT out, of TOWN, now GO!
Right, the premise was that I had to write an iambic poem with the words Dragon, Carpet, Watch, Bloodhound, Porter and Slide .
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