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A bentern lent earn

Post 1

logicus tracticus philosophicus

With pulsating heart and trembling sigh,
A happy sinner, gawd, I cry:
Thy ensuing race is off at half past three:
So bachus, turn me into a toff by tea.

I need to complete my trebled bet,
No deep and conscious guilt not-yet,
Jockey use His whip my only plea:
Oh Bacchus, be merciful to me.

Far off I stand with binoculars,
nor dare bachtrack them to back-runners;
but Thou dost my entire anguish see:
so Bachus be mercifull to me.

All alms, all bets that I have won,
Can for a single sin not atone;
to payout alone I flee:
Ladbrokes, money come to me.

And when, redeemed from sin and hell,
with all the ransomed throng I dwell,
my drunken song shall ever be,
Thank God for help from good old PCB


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