Here goes, #16,000:
Karen wants a poem,
But I’m too tired to write;
But I’ll try anyways,
Just to be polite.
We’ll be sailing soon,
67 days to be exact;
Let’s hope for no storms,
So Castaway can stay intact.
The sun will be shining,
And fun will abound,
But too many foo foo drinks,
And I will be flat on the ground.
Between now and then,
We sure will be chatty,
But I will win my bet with AFEG,
a/k/a Fatty.
So this concludes my little rhyme,
It is sad, that I know;
But soon we’ll be onboard,
And hear that beautiful horn blow.
But I’m too tired to write;
But I’ll try anyways,
Just to be polite.
We’ll be sailing soon,
67 days to be exact;
Let’s hope for no storms,
So Castaway can stay intact.
The sun will be shining,
And fun will abound,
But too many foo foo drinks,
And I will be flat on the ground.
Between now and then,
We sure will be chatty,
But I will win my bet with AFEG,
a/k/a Fatty.
So this concludes my little rhyme,
It is sad, that I know;
But soon we’ll be onboard,
And hear that beautiful horn blow.