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Poor Dale

Poor Dale


There once was a man named Dale,
He stole some ale and went to jail,
His muddy footprints left a trail,
“I didn’t do it, ” he cried and wailed-
Poor, Dale.

The cops knew he was telling a tale;
The story he told became old and stale,
He begged them to listen to no avail,
Spent years in jail, so now he’s frail-
Poor, Dale.

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Comments (1)

A very good rhyming jail-poem10