Vladimar Zarter Poem by Phil Soar

Vladimar Zarter



Vladimar Zarter
Was a late started
He didn't speak 'til he was ten
He made up for that
By being a twat
And being a champion farter

His sister Marinker
Was a bit of a stinker
And caught all his farts in a jar
She made them into perfume
In the back of the room
And sold them at a local Bazaar

Saturday, June 30, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: nonsense
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