little Jack Horner lay at the coroners <br />in pieces, a puzzle to try <br />and they put back his thumbs, and sewed on his bum <br />and said, 'Damn, there goes our mafia spy'<br /><br />Chuck Audette<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/little-jack-horner-s-undercover-identity-blown/
