The Lorac

At the far end of town where the Pepe-Grass grows and the wind smells slow-and-dank when it blows and no birds ever sing: O-ooooooooooAAAAE-A-A-I-A-U- JO-oooooooooooo AAE-O-A-A-U-U-A- E-eee-ee-eee AAAAE-A-E-I-E-A- JO-ooo-oo-oo-oo EEEEO-A-AAA-AAAA excepting old crows... is the Smemet of the Lifted Lorac. Read this...