Diggity Cow & Dandy Mr. Clyde

Clever, clever, 2 clever 3 4 5. Having spent all morning warming up the sing-song dog paddle, who would have thought they could look so good times are coming down, side winder should know ‘cause I saw him flinch, he likes it, all the way home, he does, holding up the Frisbee licking carpet baggers, dog breath dog breath diggity dig, or I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your big wig nun catcher. Cow. Big bad cow. The clowning glory of the freeloading industry, soaked through, run down, pent up, and losing badly. Yes. No. Hold on mister. You can’t place the corners on the edges of the dining room tank battle. Frantic door babies catch cold quicker than you can, Mr. Clyde. But don’t tell me. Tell Richard, who can hold his own but doesn’t realize it yet. Fool. Snack boy. With the loaded banjo American midgets, pierced below the wasting ladle, hocus poked through the jocular fainting of a girl no bigger than a thumbtack, jack, dandelion, worm, god, 1 clever losing 2 badly 3 dog 1 2