Sunday, July 1, 2012


On the day Ned was wed,
he got chased by a Fed,
was almost shot in the head, 
but he dodged the lead. 
It filled him with dread, 
so he took a med 
and went to bed with his ted 
after eating some bread. 
He awoke to the tread 
of the man named Fred 
who wanted him dead, 
but he punched him instead. 
Fred bled and was red. 
Nothing was said. 
Our man Ned fled to the shed, 
leaving no shred nor thread 
for the Fed to have read.

© Jemima Trappel 2012

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