Oh yes! Yet Again!
¶ 1
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A farce, a fiasco, a merry mirth,
decried the old man with the bell,
cried his heart out as he heard,
someone’s poking fun.
¶ 2
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The moscovites fancy revenge,
red fire engines await,
who said forget yesterday,
we are still the champions today.
¶ 3
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Fate though plays a wonderous hand,
did the other day,
So all we need are omens to sway,
sway the way they did in May.
¶ 4
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So it will fall to the last game of all,
we come to your house and pray,
the special one’s bitter hushed revenge awaits,
not if St. Michael’s got something to say.
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