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There was a young lady named Bright,
Who could travel much faster than light.
She set off one day
In a relative way,
And returned on the previous night.
There once was a government Scot,
Who tried to buy Queen Mum a yacht.
It seemed Mister Gove,
By his largesse he strove,
to prove to the Scots he's a twat.
There was a young lady from Niger,
Who smiled as she rode on a tiger.
They returned from the ride
with the lady inside
And the smile on the face of the bushman who dragged her off the cat and into the weeds where he raped her and left her for dead and knew he'd get away with it in a strongly patriarchal African subcontinent, especially with a level of lawlessness not seen since the pre-unification days of tribal warlords.
I may have gotten that not quite right. It's been a while...
and the tiger ran around and around the tree, faster and faster, until he turned to butter. And Little Black Sambo gathered up the butter and brought it home. His mother had made pancakes, and Little Black Sambo ate a hundred pancakes.