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The Hippo

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He plays in mud.
He is my bud.

All the lady hippo’s think he’s hot,
Cause he can dance like a robot.

He has a face.
He fly’s in space.

He has bonfire’s,
While sitting on wires.

He drinks root beer,
And plays with a sphere.

This poem is over,
In his land rover.





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DinosoarJen This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
May 17, 2009 at 7:53 pm
Hmm. Interesting.
 
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