The story of my uncle Fritz <br />is made up of so many bits <br />it started with the age of zits <br />then followed fifteen rowdy kids <br />who played with strangers, getting nits <br />and in the morning ate hot grits. <br />He drove a car named Opel Blitz <br />and crashed it, giving him the shits <br />he's dead but the description fits.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-poem-for-our-juvies/
