Fifty

Here is a sad lockdown story
A sad story being very cautionary
Fifty cans of cola drunk a day
Barry Moon was a living gas refinery
A sharp object did come along
A whizz, a bang and a nasty pong
A case of exploding gastronomy
Barry and his awful fizzy history

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Never mind wandering as lonely as a bloody cloud, we’ve got fifty miles to go
Said mrs Wordsworth.
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