My friend, Jane

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My friend, Jane

Hungerford lass, seventy-two,
Suffers colloquial to-do,
The issue for her was I.T.
What happened, you ask, goodness me!

Engrossed in her books, the hard drive
Of her Dell, tried to eat her, alive.
It settled for chewing her foot,
Which in plaster of Paris was put.

Her passion for theatre must wait
Now, the girl's in a sedentary state.
Before she kicks any more bytes,
We need to buy Jane some foot-lights.

Accident Prone

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Accident Prone

She fell from a forty foot ladder,
On to her face, bit her tongue,
Prognosis could have been sadder
But she fell from the very first rung.
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