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The SEMI OFFICIAL Rhyming tread....

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Old May 16, 2007 | 01:58 PM
  #21  
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Originally Posted by 8D_In_Trunk,May 16 2007, 02:46 PM
Raptor, dearest
A friend ne'er truer or finer
Don't think me far from lucid
But frankly, I ain't with stupid.
doesn't rhyme with "finer."*

*
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Old May 16, 2007 | 02:08 PM
  #22  
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*
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Old May 16, 2007 | 10:50 PM
  #23  
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My aunt Grunt's got a square cut punt
not a punt cut square, but a square cut punt
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Old May 16, 2007 | 11:18 PM
  #24  
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Slimy
Limey
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Old May 17, 2007 | 05:29 AM
  #25  
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how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
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Old May 17, 2007 | 08:41 AM
  #26  
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Originally Posted by 8D_In_Trunk,May 16 2007, 02:46 PM
Raptor, dearest
A friend ne'er truer or finer
Don't think me far from lucid
But frankly, I ain't with stupid.
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Old May 17, 2007 | 08:43 AM
  #27  
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Originally Posted by tokyo_james,May 16 2007, 11:50 PM
My aunt Grunt's got a square cut punt
not a punt cut square, but a square cut punt
rhymey limey
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Old May 17, 2007 | 08:44 AM
  #28  
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Originally Posted by s2ko,May 17 2007, 06:29 AM
how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
a woodchuck could chuck all the wood if a woodchuck could chuck wood
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Old May 17, 2007 | 09:04 AM
  #29  
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Twas a young man named tokyo_james,
who played some unusual games.
He lit up the front of his grandmother's ..............eye,
and laughed as she pissed through the flames!
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Old May 17, 2007 | 09:11 AM
  #30  
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The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still!

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!




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