Father Christmas, ensconced in his grotto,
Was discovered one day to be blotto
From his sixth single malt,
But remarked, 'Not my fault!
Sharing sheasonal shpirit's our motto!'
Last edited by Jerome Betts; 12-23-2013 at 01:15 PM.
Reason: Typo
I'm a little too fond of the voddy
And my sexual morals are shoddy,
But what Santa Claus brought
(Here's a startling thought)
Enhanced both my mind and my body.
Hybrid Mode
