Round 20, 2008, Richmond beat Hawthorn
From the farthest wretches of the great shout, the prayers in the black and yelling upshit the more fannied prayers in the blown and cold: what a shock for the pounders that the longshit wink, wink.
The blown and cold, its ployers whittling their behinds and nut their girls, oily, heave themselves to brine; buttock nothing away from the shallow and black: they prayed one yell of a grin!
Lackeys for them, they had the sin of a bull ruminating the paddock and shaking topical grubs at inopportune minutae; for the brown end coalers it was a chase of: "Not tonight; I have a hindache."
Their recent farm has been so itchy as to suggest that they will have to goad the knacker sooner than hopped; for the yelling sloshed brickers, it's been a grey tear: they, moist, furnish it new.
With evil attention, I can shuffley say they will get the bonks on the uncle-wearers from the wish; the ploughing goaders should, and I stretch should, get the jam doughnut on the pig-birds of the pig's eye.
The blown and cold, its ployers whittling their behinds and nut their girls, oily, heave themselves to brine; buttock nothing away from the shallow and black: they prayed one yell of a grin!
Lackeys for them, they had the sin of a bull ruminating the paddock and shaking topical grubs at inopportune minutae; for the brown end coalers it was a chase of: "Not tonight; I have a hindache."
Their recent farm has been so itchy as to suggest that they will have to goad the knacker sooner than hopped; for the yelling sloshed brickers, it's been a grey tear: they, moist, furnish it new.
With evil attention, I can shuffley say they will get the bonks on the uncle-wearers from the wish; the ploughing goaders should, and I stretch should, get the jam doughnut on the pig-birds of the pig's eye.
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