Round 18, 2008, Fremantle beat West Coast
Per hops, it's nought such a bad eider! The Dackers, dungeonous in the esteem, down the Oglers in a brain-wrack: you, jesting, couldn't lick a lay. The fool's pants went to waist.
As the Dackers, holding up the letter, looked down and, seething what was groaning on, cocked their log and went, poop, ooooo! The Oglers cupped it right in the eye; no arm done.
They, on the wrong slide of the tricks, and ulcer holding up the latter, grubbed the Dackers' rugs and, pulling at their points, slurped late in the first squirter, where the Dackers went, pang!
These Oglers, sighing their eyes out, are forked for at least another oar, but you can't cop a cold man down; as the Dackers, hindchucking with goad, are gluing out their suede for utes.
They will milk the Swines, pay for their utterance and pose a tickly one: can they tap that hearse? The Oglers, weeding to show their hairs, but not bold, get to pray for the Bumblers; oh, my goat!
As the Dackers, holding up the letter, looked down and, seething what was groaning on, cocked their log and went, poop, ooooo! The Oglers cupped it right in the eye; no arm done.
They, on the wrong slide of the tricks, and ulcer holding up the latter, grubbed the Dackers' rugs and, pulling at their points, slurped late in the first squirter, where the Dackers went, pang!
These Oglers, sighing their eyes out, are forked for at least another oar, but you can't cop a cold man down; as the Dackers, hindchucking with goad, are gluing out their suede for utes.
They will milk the Swines, pay for their utterance and pose a tickly one: can they tap that hearse? The Oglers, weeding to show their hairs, but not bold, get to pray for the Bumblers; oh, my goat!
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