Winter is icumen in,Lhude sing Goddamm,Raineth drop and staineth slop,
And how the wind doth ramm!
Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us,
An ague hath my ham
Damm you; Sing: Goddamm.
Goddamm, Goddamm, ’tis why I am, Goddamm,
So ’gainst the winter’s balm.
Sing goddamm, damm, sing goddamm,
Sing goddamm, sing goddamm, DAMM.
What is the sum of 11 and 7:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.