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So...Tweety!
 



So...
you tawt you taw a puddy tat?
But you forgot your glasses;
without those thick bi-focal lenses,
a brick for a puddy tat passes.

Reduced to eating millet mash
with yucky fish oil supplement,
any puddy tat getting you for a feed
would think he only got the condiment.

Old boy, you'd better give it up,
this 'crying wolf' no longer gels.
Close your constantly griping beak
because your bird breath smells.




By cherryk

© 2018 cherryk (All rights reserved)

 

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This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Cartoons (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Cartoons (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Cartoons (challenge has been closed)


This Poem is part of a Challenge: - Cartoons (challenge has been closed)


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