ALL-OUT FIGHGT


We shall not forestall
No, never!
We shall attack
And fight to the last man
On all fronts
Armed or unarmed.

There will be no cod-liver oil on the stall
For fear of bullets from Denver
There may very well be a hijack
No one will be able to escape to Amsterdam
The only objects protruding will be the fonts
And the narrow beds our mothers farmed.

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