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the day it rained on Mister Bosh's parade
Scrambled eggs, raw, were on the breakfast menu. And eggs, raw, and the raw rain streaked the pretty car.
Some stood their ground. Their ground! Shivering. Furious and bone-chilled, Ready, in spite of the raw wind, their raw eggs ready.
The election was a deception And we see right through you.
Smack smack smack. The impact? Unreported. The raw rage of patriots supremely raped.
The election was a deception And we see right through you.
Mister Bosh scurries away, in his raw rage, keeping his coat Out of harm's way. Missus Bosh takes his trembling hand:
Ta-ta and cranberries! Best to be out of it And not risk catching a cold shoulder.
Seen through the window, as they accelerate, It appears that the raw, dripping yolk is on his face. But soon, unreported, the mess is washed away.
The raw deal? Mister Bosh is assured: Nothing will stick.
from... THE CHRONICLES OF BOSH: A Fictitious History of the Occupancy of Prince George, Part the First.
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