I want to blow a bow, a crow, and a doe eating dough. I want to go, glow, and grow if my name was Joe. I know no mow that’s low, oh, oh, oh. The pro can row and sew. He can show so slow in the snow. Though he can throw a toe, and although, ago he could tow below. On the game show, he said “heave-ho” and “hello”. Then he gave info. His name was John Doe. And the host said, “No-no. There is no show. The people could outgrow watching the show in a pueblo or a rainbow or with a scarecrow. We might become a sideshow that is so-so. Maybe we’ll be talk show, where guests tiptoe and yo-yo in the Alamo.” The buffalo that was calico ate some cookie dough and a cupid’s bow. Then he did a do-si-do at the wonderful fashion show. Was he a friend or foe with heel-and-toe? High and low, he was from Idaho with a name, Ivanhoe. But long ago, it was Mary Jo of Mexico under the mistletoe. He was a Navajo eating an Oreo. There was an overflow of the piccolo. The picture show showed a radio, a ratio, and the right to know how to be in a rodeo. Then there was Romeo eating a Sloppy Joe on sourdough while listening to the stereo. Then the studio had a talent show. People played tic-tac-toe on tippytoe to and fro starting at Tokyo. “Touch and go” was said on the TV show. You could get on video? Yes and no. Geronimo! Get-up-and go to New Mexico. But pay as you go. Give it to Pinocchio, who eats a pistachio according to his portfolio. Ready, set, go!
Created Thursday, June 6, 2002