Property and freedom

As I was going to St. Ives, I met a man with seven wives. Every wife had seven sacks. Every sack had seven cats. Every cat had seven kittens. Kittens, cats, sacks and wives, how m- PPFFFFLLLLLRRRBBB!!! Ahhhhh baby. Ahhh that was a fucking fart and a half! Oh, God. Actually, it really was a fart and a half : a little extra had come out. But hey, he was at home alone, so he could just go wash the brown muck out of his pants and sit on the loo for a proper go. Ah, he was enjoying the bachelor life. He might even just throw the pants away!