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Rated: E · Other · Satire · #1306491
Irish poetry

tall tales are told in Ireland

of kissin the blarney stone

tis said you get the gift of gab

when you place your lips upon

me wife told of doing this

when we had just first met

and i believe what me wench has said

for she aint stopped talking yet

she talks all day and into the night

she even talks when i aint there

she talks to her self even when she knows

the neighbours stop and stare

she talks thru breakfast and thru lunch

even talks all thru the tea

she never stops and how she breathes is beyond

someone like me

her yappin never stops even when she sleeps

and pert near drives me nuts

that mouth of hers is always goin

the darn thing never shuts

i dont think she mearly kissed the blarney

she some how messed it up

when she laied her lips upon the stone

tis true was mighty rough

yes she got the gift of gab i know

a truer tale was never told

but when she leaned over she

musta missed and

swallowed the damn thing whole..

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