Our dad roars and roars at drawers. Does yours?


Here’s a drawer that made our father roar
He walked in through the door
and pointed at this drawer
and roared, so that we knew the score:
“I don’t like that anymore!”

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Here’s another drawer that made our dad roar
He roared, “I think this drawer is poor!”
He roared, “This drawer is such a bore!”
He roared, “This is a no-good drawer!”
He roared so much it made him sore

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When our father saw this drawer,
he roared a roar
that shook us to the very core

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Drawer four sure made our dad roar
“More, more!” he roared and roared,
“Now here’s the drawer that I adore,
this drawer, this drawer, mi gran amor!”
He kissed the floor before the drawer
and swore to set the record for
the most drawers hung on Cristo Redentor

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This drawer made our dad go to war
in Ecuador
He served there for a thousand tours
while roaring of his favorite drawers

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Our dad, now a door-to-door drawer purveyor,
roared an order: “Say a prayer
to glorify this drawer forever!”

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According to our father’s roars,
the lore recorded heretofore
reports that drawers in years of yore,
in legends, bore a queer allure,
and/or that drawers were said to cure
impurities forevermore—
a metaphor, our father roared,
for the crusades against the Moors

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When he laid eyes upon this drawer
our dad picked up a two-by-four
and roared, “I’ll give that drawer what-for!”
Quite soon the poor drawer was no more

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It was a chest of drawers,
it was a hearse of drawers.
Four drawer corpses, torn asunder,
bore the brunt of our dad’s thunder
That hortatory orator
imploring us, “Abjure such drawers!”

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As in Scripture’s forecasts,
as with those prophets warning
of a hoary foursome—horsemen,
portents of a torrid rapture,
so each night we must endure
our father’s roaring overture
against the drawer he calls
The Scourge

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He fears this drawer
as a predator
He claims it is a carnivore
that wants to eat him al pastor;
a horrible unknown lifeform
he cannot find a phylum for

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