Hoist the Flag | final version
translated poem:
flaga na maszt (furgiello)
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Moderator: Michał Zabłocki
I don't like skulls and gulls
they smell and are all culls
they have so curved legs
practising yoga treads
they are so quiet, pale
parading in the gale
they also are so stiff
as a poker from White Cliff
and winds from them do smell
in all directions, hell
worst of all they hoist
the white flag slightly moist
they smell and are all culls
they have so curved legs
practising yoga treads
they are so quiet, pale
parading in the gale
they also are so stiff
as a poker from White Cliff
and winds from them do smell
in all directions, hell
worst of all they hoist
the white flag slightly moist
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