He licks, burumph, lick lick, goes the Lickmaster.
Smell, I smell you lick lick. Barumph, boo bar, who
goes there? I must know you.
Wee little man, a doctor, quite special. The palm of my
hand is his belly's right prop. Warming and waiting to
cup and bar bar! His tender paws and barumph umph brrow!
1 comment:
ps. the lickmaster was drunk that night. we split a bottle of wine. red.
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