FredA Poem by Alexia GrayNot really romance but wasn't sure where else to put it; a little bit of fun for a boring Sunday evening!
Previous Version This is a previous version of Fred. Oh, Fred, how you taunt me, Each Sunday night at eight. You may not be the tallest, But your muscles are so great. Your cheeky chappy smile That I could never hate, And the hair styled so perfectly; That I would never berate. And so I go through all the other days, For the end of the week: I wait, Because oh, Fred, how you taunt me, Each Sunday night at eight. © 2009 Alexia GrayReviews
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