or, Sum Up Summertime, Poetically Licensed Sing-Song Meter Edit
Just because it’s summer, there’s not always a last rose
Baseballs fly into bats, and bats fill up on mosquitoes
Camping corpses marinate in DEET, but still they are a-slappin’
Pedro’s fire works, as does yours, and explosions are happ’nin’
Mother nature’s boiling vengeance, roiling from the Verde Cape
Canes hurry west, [...]
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