Tuesday, November 06, 2007


I want to go to Nicaragua.
I want to drive there in my Jagua.
But I don’t want to drink the agua,
Lest I get dysentery.

I knew a girl there: a real hagua,
Perpetually on the ragua.
She had a pair of huge Fun-Bagua.
I think her name was Terry.

Through jungle swamps we’d have to slogua,
Through tropic rain and pea-soup fogua,
Avoiding quicksand in the bogua.
Was it exciting? Very.

[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Houston Steve for the inspiration. For best results, read this with the British pronunciation: nic-a-rag-you-ah.]

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