"Famisheth me wot; mine starvation thou horse for vitual wouldst erstwhile absolve."
"Thine brain, O Lord, is mightiest of all peas."
"Jocluarity of thine tale hast been told of the millionth"
"Doth thou not behold thine ladies bosom? powered vessel upon them, I wouldst 'til dawn!"
"Mine appendage; glorious and mighty, bringeth measure to thy meter!"
"Emit from thy buttocks, would most surely gaggteth lowly maggot"
"Thy visage is thus homely that canine posterior wouldeth mightly improve upon"
"Width and measure of thy girth is wot immeasurable: royal elephants doth fling legumes at thy sight!"
"Kaline, thy juice of spleen, 'een gold competest not!"
12 November 2007
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8 comments:
How's this for hyperbole? The dolphins suck ass...
Soilage of thy undergarments is mere happenstance for losses unperceived.
Of Patricia Shaw, John Donne allegedly said:
Wouldst I a complete yard of mine lady's dung ingest as barter to view its source.
The concubine's bearded meat is rilled as such; slaking such wench be akin to waving one's lute within a stable's entrance!
Forgive mine departure, bar I willst commence to passing golden broth in a measure befitting a racing stead.
Muncy, thy loins, wouldst I enter and most assuredly repeat ne'er hesitation 'til the bovines return to thy dwelling.
Hath not the fair maiden eyes? Whyfor then doth she slake her slight and horrid steward? Alas, his orbs and scepter yea indubitably resemble those bequeathed to a horse.
I wouldst ne'er indulge the meat of that slovenly wench were I equipped with YOUR staff!
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