It's got so I can no longer tell weddings from riots.
To be on the safe side I avoid both, watching from my window as the crowd runs shouting through the street.
Death and the bridegroom both ride a white horse.
Of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing wax -- Of cabbages -- and kings -- And why the sea is boiling hot -- And whether pigs have wings.
1 comment:
From from what I've heard, they're both on their way to hell!
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