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Patrick McleanThere was a man of late,
who struggled to find a date,
nor could he seduce a mate,
because of his very delirious state.
His name was Pat,
size relevant to a rat,
no matter what he was at,
his humour was very flat.
He would always trance,
so when a girl asked him to dance,
he gave her a blank glance,
and played his Game-boy Advance.
He'd look into the stars,
hoping to find mars,
he'd eat an energy bar,
but wouldn't get very far.
He does his very best,
though he fails his test,
he embarrasses his family crest,
with his brain constantly at rest.
For every action his friends made,
he'd slash them with a blade,
no matter how we played;
he would hit us with a spade.
He would always trot;
his life had no plot,
his brain would continually rot,
as he tranced on the spot.
Nevertheless, he was my friend
one on which you couldn't depend,
since he had no money to spend,
or anything valuable to defend.
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