Scoundrels run amok in the Soo, behold this tale of most dire news

Something rotten is afoot in the Soo, for caitiffs may operate in plain view

With the passage of the sun and the moon, nary a soul can claim to be immune

To the injustices of such swindlers, whom are free to pilfer with gleeful ardour

Those meagre possessions one may hold dear, purchased only through living most austere

An honest day’s labour cast to the wind, a phenomenon quite frequently spin’d

Ground oneself and hear this my tale of woe, for in my heart great sorrow further grows

Merely one night ago a thief trespassed, and before my very eyes he harassed

My stalwart golden retriever and I, as he had turned my lawn into a sty

Hitherto maintained in a pristine state, gardenias now trampled neath wheels of hate

My toolbox in hand a shrill cry rang out, with words so cruel my heart began to rout

“Fuck you, goof” he said riding caracole, his tongue a dagger that could pierce any soul

His motorbike a wicked steed of steel, luxurious steel-toe boots guard his heel

Leather gloves protect his thieving fingers, upon which the scent of cigarettes lingers

Clearly he was a man not lacking wealth, riches the detriment of others’ health

I stepped forth and attempted to give chase, mud whipped from his tires splashed upon my face

As ephemeral as the morning dew, he was quickly disappearing from view

Alas he turned once more into the fray, he rode past shouting “also your dog’s gay”

Toolbox in hand he disappeared from sight, to all others he shall remain a blight

Heart laden with woe I turned to face home, only to witness my own fall of Rome

Scrawled upon my garage door in full view, the words “Goon” and the love of Baby Blue

As ferrous powder settles from the sky, yet more scoundrels from my garage did fly

My car swiftly ransacked and my tires slashed, far from my view the miscreants had dashed

My harrowing yarn now comes to an end, a plea for help to the Soo I do send

I expect all to read this faithfully, accepting those comments made tastefully

May the sun set on this most awful day, and for the record my dog is not gay





Thus ends this man’s most tragic tale, whose toolbox is now up for sale

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