The Quack of Doom
Lord Juniper, all gin and jitters,
Found his digital duck-call transmitters
Out on test at first light
Mimicked mallard just right . . .
And was bagged by a cad who shot sitters.
Dram and Blast
Viscount Groundsel, whose intake of drink
Was tending to grow not to shrink
Fired his rifle one day
At a beast which, they say,
Had no antlers, but tusks, and was pink.
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