Florence, you missed

Whipped to a lather

over the briny deep

Oh that you’d rather

up the Chesapeake creep

to flood the Potomac

and it’s environs

hard to stomach

those wailing sirens

that blow for rescue of the crown

the sort of people who’d let you drown

With such misery these should be kissed

Florence, dear girl, I’m afraid you missed

 

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