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Awful thick over in Lunenburg County.
Coastin sou’west n one thing another
they’ll pepper my lawn fore I’m gone. Lyme ticks the black-legged bastards
love lappin up their gamey blood meals.
Birdies drop em. Vaders from the States gain latitude with each year’s warmin.
Itty-bitty bombs, but the damage!
Gets me, it’s on accountta some Nazi. Name of Trowb, egghead outta that S.S.
bi-o-weapons lab they had over the Baltic.
Mericans snagged him from the Soviets for their fishy Animal Disease Centre. Slippery!
Oh, the grim speriments the vermin done
fashionin germs stead of curin foot n mouth. That Plum Island station plum cross the sound
from Lyme, Connecticut—you get one guess
where a fectious disease was named after. Hear tell constant more’s caught it.
Half-timid to hang a wash or walk
the back path, folks, lest they get bit. N ain’t hardly a one sayin boo
to the cash-cow tourists
lest they catch fright. MOOOOO! |
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