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Who's posting is something to fear,
With prose that's sublime
And songs that don't rhyme
He could win 52 times a year.
There's a poster in FOG who's called Wookiee,
Who's posts I will usually have a lookie,
And when he's not here,
And there's nothing else near,
I'll just have to read a good bookie.
He never says "Bye!", he just waves,
And despite being in Wales
and telling remarkably long tales,
As a poster he's one of my faves.
'Tis a sin to be Ninty they say,
Because Ninty's don't know how to play,
You can have a wee poke,
But they won't get the joke
And they'll flame you the rest of the day.
Who shot anyone in his wake,
But now he's retired
or maybe just fired
We hope so for Ocelot's sake.
There was a Tomb Raider named Croft,
who as a little top heavy up top,
It drove her insane
Every time on a plane
That at high altitudes she would pop.
Who tried to get into a diaper,
But he fell on his head
And now he is dead,
So the rest of the forums went hyper.
There once was a fisherman from Leeds
Whos children were all complete weeds,
At the sight of a cod
Or anything odd
They'd all go weak in the knees
Here are some samples from it:
I once had a fully trained moth
Who'd swim like a fish in scotch broth
to end his routine
He'd fart 'God Save the Queen'.
Has anyone here got a cloth?
And- er, Whoooo Style!