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| A Brontosaurus Ate My Wife | |
| By Katanga | ||||||||||||
| 14 April 2008 | ||||||||||||
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A Brontosaurus Ate My Wife Bronte was a herbivore But Bronte ate my wife He’d tasted nothing better before In all his grassful life They went you see to a party Where amidst the song and dance He decided she was tarty And took a moral stance The world would best be rid of her Bronte reasoned to himself Adding salt and pepper to season her And some garlic from the shelf He swallowed her with just one bite No need to chew at all So tender was her flesh that night And only five foot tall I miss her how I miss her I miss her more and more How I would hold and kiss her Even in the cold bowels of a dinosaur Well Bronte got indigestion And wind the following day It was painful without question And would not go away So he went to a female physician All sympathy and smiles And in a most undignified position He was diagnosed with piles My arse is sore my arse is sore Bronte cried in vain I’ll stick to being a herbivore And never eat a woman again Well the moral of this sorry tale The message in my song Is be yourself and never fail Because eating women is wrong
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