British Airways come on you fairways
I fly on you always n ya take me aways
So whys you striking anyways
I find so double backways that YOU, IN THIS WAY
Would even do this to me babes
OhHH my actual days
What makes you thinks this is okays
I don’t understand this greving craze
On these planes I cant cant even eat marmalades
No one eats cause they don’t flyu, not mayonnaise
So seriously babes
This shit is graves
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Hey Unkkownpoet! nice poem, it sounds a little like an early twentieth century american mafia speech, it instantly gave me the image of one of those old gangsters with a thick cigar in their mouth. Nice work!