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There is a bridegroom,
Born in the birth boom,
Which puts the nation in gloom.
If there'll be another such boom,
For which the world has no more room,
And humans will be in doom.
He inherits a large heirloom,
Only for him soon to toom.
He will have wedding in a ballroom.
His bride is like a beautiful bloom,
From afar she's got to loom,
Like a witch riding on a broom,
Or a yacht on the sea to spoom,
Through the hot simoom.
Oohm! |
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