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Roll On . . . Roll On . . : Ken Gibbs

by Ken Gibbs


Your teeth are all furry

And your head’s sore as hell;

You regret your celebration

More than any words can tell.


    With feet like leaden slippers

    And mouth like vulture’s crutch,

    You make your way so carefully

    To shower and shave and such.


With ablutions completed

And neatly parted hair,

You proceed to add deodorant

With exaggerated care.


    It always seems to happen –

    It’s a thing you always fear;

    How the roll-on variety –

    Seems to roll in your hair !

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