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May 1, 2001

My very name makes young children weep, / Farmers dislike me because mainly my dinners are sheep, / I turn towns in to fire for warmth every winter, / I am not wasteful, I use every splinter, / My roar can turn the bravest to jelly, / Afterwords they tend to end up in my belly, / Some people may believe I…  sign in to read more »


May 1, 2001

What is this day that happens once a year, / That fills hearts with dread and fear, / Young children receive candy as gifts, / The street is filled with monsters and my…  sign in to read more »