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Better Than a Pot Rice

A silly we poem that just popped into my head

Stabbage would have been
awfully savage and maybe
would have turned me
into a cabbage.

No, give me some kissage,
huggage and lotsa of loveage,
for love is niceage
and better than sliceage.

I talk a lot about love,
I am a love-monger,
slightly cheesy,
but oh, so bright, and very breezy.

Breezy is the fan,
a-blowing my face,
best shut it off,
or you'll feel my mace!

To fight with a mace,
must have been fun,
crunch! broken bones,
and another one!

Maybe not so nice,
I'd rather have love,
for love is my spice,
and much better than a Pot Rice.
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