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Rated: E · Poetry · Comedy · #1911741
This poem contains two stories of the fun someone can have when building a snowman.
I have some stories to tell you
About snowmen; these stories are true.
(Story 1) A couple of years ago, I build a snowman,
And no, he was not made out of sand.
He was kind of short, like a dwarf, and sort of lumpy;
I guess I could have named him “Grumpy.”
I gave him not a name, but a label suitable for him;
I called him my Blues Brother snowman, for he looked as smooth as them.
After he was built, I set on him a black fedora made of plastic.
After I set sunglasses on his head, I thought to myself, “This is almost fantastic!”
I ran in my house to get a black overcoat to dress him in.
When he was complete, I declared him my Blues Brothers snowman.
(Story 2) Now, the other snowman was made of different things;
He was neither made of bugs nor strings.
My daughter and I rolled the snowballs carefully,
Or so we thought; they turned out dreadfully.
Three snowballs, each smaller than the one preceding it;
It did not matter; they still looked like &%#@
His face was made of half of a pretzel and dog food.
Now I see why he was in a bad mood:
He was being eaten by dogs that live near.
He no longer looked dreadful; he looked kind of queer.
Both snowmen are melted now; they had a good run.
Next year, I shall build another and have more fun!
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