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| © Copyright 2005 Poetry4.com |
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| 311. Donald Oh Donald! Oh Donald! Who does your hair? Yes, that mop atop your head With so much money And access to only the best Your hair would surely upset the dead Sure you’re the man Who has “trumped” all others Especially those with big money But truth be told Did they just quit in spite Because you hair look so funny? We adore your success And do buy your books Your TV show is simply a killer Maybe you’re just preparing For your own rendition Of Michael Jackson’s thriller So take heed man of wealth Who sentences begin in I And always end with me Change that funky hair Or just cut it all off Your hair wasn’t meant to be |
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