Brenton Rossow

railway gherkin
won’t do you no harm
railway gherkin
ain’t grown on a farm
railway gherkin
ain’t no false-chest-wig-mirkin
railway gherkin
there’s no time to shed
your shoes or be shirkin’
pick up your sticks
and grab your railway gherkin,
grab a paddle and a shovel
as you head down the track
there’s a land filled with gherkins,
so don’t lose your mind
just throw ‘em in a jar
and put your future behind
Brenton Rossow has disgustingly thin lips and a sweet dyed red comb over. He was wounded in Athens by a stray beer glass and shot in the leg by an electronic shoe pencil in Grease. He has been living next to a mountain swimming with monkeys for the past nine years.

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