Friday, August 8, 2014

Remaineth There No Sustenance?

When runneth dry the saucy can
And breadbag bread containeth not
And sitteth there no spam in pan
And standeth same no broth in pot
And dwindleth sharp the butter dish
And wasteth 'way the carrot stalk
And waiteth there no tuna fish
And useless hangs the cookman's frock
And vacant sits the cutting board
And empty stands the cereal box
And crumbs fall not upon the floor
And hardeneth the salt as rocks

Then looketh I upon the shelf
And see-eth I with gloomy art
That planneth must I for my self
A trip tomorrow to Walmart

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