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I mean, Holy Joe, twas a horror show, not in Idaho, but in She-da-ho, twenty slags in a row, turned her black and indigo, and left a toss or two in escrow, for those of us in the know, when he came it seemed from Jericho, he talked like a kakapo, as he tanned her into latigo, with his big little Joe. All this, not so long-ago.
This threesome Oreo, about to overflow, about to overgrow, about to overthrow, the maiden’s ovolo. She rode at Pamlico, a horse named Papago, and as she entered the paseo, there came one Eddie Vicaro, who played the piccolo, and rode a horse named Pierrot, who overcame the polio, but left his head shaped like a pomelo, and caught like pompano, on the portico.
In Tokyo, her perfect tombolo, the rumor of touch-and-go, fired the sizzling tournedos, while a whispered tremolo, and wafting tuckahoe, emanating from touristos from Tupelo, in search of a UFO,were served the ultimo, and had to undergo, life’s undertow.
Rising like the gorgeous Veneto, swooning with vertigo, she held firm her vibrio, while I shot video from my Virago, the viral and the vireo, the Queen of Zhangjiakou, with my sweet zydeco…into the sun-soweto… and so… off we rode.
… and all this, just words and phrases arranged ALPHA BETIQUE LEE that happen to rhyme with…
QUID PRO QUO
to give and take