Round 22, 2008, Hawthorn beat Carlton
The Gawkers, grinding off their ear in style, have salivated on their spare head's sand-shoes with a whelping of the Boobs, their girl-kicker felt one shit, as they felt away proudly, all nought!
They, no snatch for their advertisers, looked like a rusty chide who's pants had laughed at it, as the Gawkers, seething at the snatch, put their thingers on the purse and decried it off!
The Gawkers, a pooful outfart, take their fiery pants into the last moon with a plum and a real shit, as the Boobs, dish-a-washing in the wind, tickle their tiles between their logs, yelp!
They, with a punch of things on the bird, have had the short, awful leer that supposers drone about, while the Gawkers, the raw drool, are still a laugh, but shudder to pat their pricks.
It'll be on like a snog when they climb out filing against the Dullblogs, in a punch of pricks! For the Boobs, it's a wrong reason on the trick to baulk up for a real toilet at the hate: swarmware!
They, no snatch for their advertisers, looked like a rusty chide who's pants had laughed at it, as the Gawkers, seething at the snatch, put their thingers on the purse and decried it off!
The Gawkers, a pooful outfart, take their fiery pants into the last moon with a plum and a real shit, as the Boobs, dish-a-washing in the wind, tickle their tiles between their logs, yelp!
They, with a punch of things on the bird, have had the short, awful leer that supposers drone about, while the Gawkers, the raw drool, are still a laugh, but shudder to pat their pricks.
It'll be on like a snog when they climb out filing against the Dullblogs, in a punch of pricks! For the Boobs, it's a wrong reason on the trick to baulk up for a real toilet at the hate: swarmware!
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