Sweet Sarah, Sarah, seraphim--
When Sammy came, she smiled at him,
But Sammy, Sammy, samurai
Just poked his finger in her eye.
Now Sarah seems, from all the din,
Less seraph and more Saracen.
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This poetry is posted by Bob's daughter, Heather...and on rare occasions by Bob himself. Please note that most poetry gets added retroactively. This can no doubt be confusing for readers, but is better for historical accuracy!
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