Phil Soar

Gold Star - 51,423 Points (28.06.1952)

Taxidermist - Poem by Phil Soar

My heart goes out to blighty,
That's what the surgeon said,
The year was 1936, and Oswald Twain was Dead,
The surgeon cut him open,
To see what made him snuff it,
He found a taxidermist, who had climbed inside to stuff it.

Topic(s) of this poem: funny

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, March 28, 2015

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