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The art of poetication One day there was a man Who came to me and asked “What is it that you do?” I told him I was a poet He loudly exclaimed a poet I surely could not be For my writing made no sense “It doesn’t rhyme!” said he Clearly I made the man upset But I did not feel regret But oh how he did fret! There is no punctuation There is no abbreviation He said I was a deviation So I began an altercation And I gave him an education In the art of poetication |
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