Your Harping knows no end in talk or verse,
Itching ways to re-loop the self-same curse,
Same Gloating point, go figure, as before,
Nothing is worse than a redundant bore.
Not sated by GT, you rush to Flyte;
Then, those who play can't beat thy Appetite!
So on again predictably hellbent,
You Flyte a proper Non-participant!
You are, if Brexit be indeed a Sin,
True Harper of it like The Puritan,
Must belt it out each day to rub it in!
d
Last edited by Erik Olson; 04-12-2017 at 04:31 PM.
Reason: Seriously, tough, this gets old and now almost depressing, it becomes someone's sop box about collapse ....
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