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THE SINGING BULL
A singing bull flying in the night
Chased and chased and chased to flight
My peaceful sleep of its right!
As scattered barks barked bright....
The wind won voice
And what choice but to invoice
The consumers of my rest en suite
Who plundered sleeps sweet pursuit.
In vain I hoped for rain
If only to silence that plane
But the kiteís voice staked
Its owner played the rake.
Slumberís estate thus so robbed
Lumbered on to the job
Presented I no plaintiffís bob
Resented I the privative hob nob.