Let us not revive father with the whiskey

After father fell down

In the dry-tonguèd seaside town

She heard the sound of the little brother crack

She watched the dry-lungèd doctor and his secretary

Bet ponies at the track.

say something nice ... or not

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s