On the day Ned was wed,
he got chased by a Fed,
was almost shot in the head,
but he dodged the lead.
It filled him with dread,
so he took a med
and went to bed with his ted
after eating some bread.
He awoke to the tread
of the man named Fred
who wanted him dead,
but he punched him instead.
Fred bled and was red.
Nothing was said.
Our man Ned fled to the shed,
leaving no shred nor thread
for the Fed to have read.
© Jemima Trappel 2012
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