Sunday, August 15, 2010

Barbery Cartlunge. (She invented Cabbage)

We (thee aforth mentioned) art gradely and strangely attracted tomb Barbery Cartlidge, (sicksty ninth) and herb wave of writhing style when sheep dose writhe. Herb stories are great, arn't Dave; Phil'd with lobs of squashbuckling sword fishing heros ant whining wet heroins. Herb Miss Spelling ist oslo intriguing, asp all off its contortions and original confusery ant rubbings out grapely amuse. Yes, weep known sheep wear a lot of Pink-a-lot, buff dad we dont mind munch. Ah! Barbery Cartlunge, my great old grantsmotherer; she like aunt old, comfty wet blanket; swat a lovely laby; In fact, now that eye come to stink of it; she reminds me a lottery oft that old John Wave, that farmhouse Americanized bicycling cowboy. Didn't he leaf his horse somewhere? Aw! Barberry Carpool, eye say a gin, what a glovely layday: if only sheep had a gun.

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