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We Hunt Again, Mon Ami

A little Belgian man,Just over my heightWith an egg shaped headYou could spot from miles,Armed with a ‘stacheLike England’s never seenHe makes me smileWhen he says ‘mon ami‘.He’s obsessed with orderAnd a methodical mindYou can’t try and keep a secretThat he cannot find.You’ll find no matchFor his magnificent brain,His ‘little grey cells’Invariably win the gameSometimes… Continue reading We Hunt Again, Mon Ami