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Sally who lives in my alley

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    Sally who lives in my alley

    Away! the oh six thirty
    mind racing, thoughts a dirty
    o'er mountain, field and fen
    her secrets i yearn to ken

    her name is sally and she lives in my alley


    How my heart doth swell with pride
    to survey my would be bride
    Oh! to own the eyes but few
    that behold sweet manna dew

    her name is sally and she lives in my alley

    as we reach Bath Spa Station
    Alas! such consternation!
    onto carriage floor is hurled
    my copy of railway world

    yours? enquires a voice deep bass
    ill fitting of pearls and lace
    profers an arm quite hirsute
    this, methinks, is not so cute

    His name is Sally and he lives in my alley

    #2
    Nurse!

    He's out of bed again!

    Comment


      #3
      His name is Sally and he lives in my alley
      Is that a euphamism?
      The vegetarian option.

      Comment


        #4
        Somebody shoot him!

        Comment


          #5
          Originally posted by pacharan View Post
          Somebody shoot him!
          You can't shoot him, he's a laydee and he does laydeeeeeeeees things like pick wild flowers
          Doing the needful since 1827

          Comment


            #6
            Originally posted by amcdonald View Post
            You can't shoot him, he's a laydee and he does laydeeeeeeeees things like pick wild flowers
            I meant Gricerboy, not the lady in the poem.

            Comment


              #7
              Originally posted by pacharan View Post
              I meant Gricerboy, not the lady in the poem.
              So did AMcD.
              "Being nice costs nothing and sometimes gets you extra bacon" - Pondlife.

              Comment


                #8
                Originally posted by DaveB View Post
                So did AMcD.
                GPWM
                Doing the needful since 1827

                Comment


                  #9
                  Originally posted by amcdonald View Post
                  You can't shoot him, he's a laydee and he does laydeeeeeeeees things like pick wild flowers
                  Indeed.
                  Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair
                  And Greta woods are green
                  And you may gather summer garlands there
                  Would grace a summer-queen

                  Comment


                    #10
                    He stood alone on platform 4
                    his notebook in his hand
                    a train went by
                    we heard a cry
                    and read this crap no more

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