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[ When Harry Met Butters ] Bucket Listing
Who's that with a pail in hand
climbing up the shoreline hilled?
Is that Jack?
Nope
It's just Harry
The bucket he's trying to carry
back, rocking port to starboard?
Filled with sand, not water
thus unlikely to be spilled
And, for his beloved Butters;
the castle she wants to build
Bet you thought I was going to say, Jill
Or maybe even perhaps Jilled
Whatever name you choose
Jill[ed] certainly was jilted, an ex
whom Harry had his fill of---
her being an empty bucket list
chock full of his wishes unfulfilled
Unlike his newfound love
who fit him as snugly as a glove
she was as hairy as Harry!
A redhead too!
And if this poem somewhat reeks---
it might be because of the red herring
sharing my neglected, rectangled tank;
Harry hasn't cleaned the darn thing in weeks!
Damn!
I don't think any of my poems ever rhymed
as well as this son of beach does
which to my misfortune is
giving off a peculiar stank
of its own ...
er
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