Friday, November 4, 2011

A Poem

Eye have a spelling chequer,
It came with my Pea Sea.
It plane lee marks four my revue,
Miss steaks I can knot sea.

Eye strike the quays and type a whirred,
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am write oar wrong
It tells me straight a weigh.

Eye ran this poem threw it,
Your shore real glad two no.
Its vary polished in its weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

- sauce unknown

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

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