You Guy Go R & R, Shuck, Jive, Bed of Corn Cobs

You can imagine Shakespeare’s bed, in an autumn morning, and Washington’s,

We have in the black of morn, a rip a torn,

Crops well fed, corn mourning, nibelungenlied, a babe,

I did that?

Fortify morning lore beg, big, we’re here before the Lord, and me loving Calif, bad ass behind a man staff, a rigorous erector set, jet set, put a plush on a morning’s, shake out some bland buggy buggy l’il moan God done owe me some.