First Class Priority? Express My Appreciation

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Small fish, small packages, small town Post Office. Big SpLaSh!

 

 Knee-high, mud roads or dorsal deep snow.

It might be raining toads with a forceful windy blow.

I needs to ship beads from a "no serve zone" so,

my chainsaw please for fallen trees as a tour into town I must go.

 

 I'll bite, somewhere, as you've seen in these reads

but, write this to share of my bling slinging deeds.

There's these three, I would dare, don't care I'm from weeds

and are each "Lass of first class" in my fish beads biz needs.

 

 My post office hosts three "Mail Femme Fatales".

Here's a roast enveloped toast to their transit commitin' spells.

They treat me too well despite my audacious smells.

I'd streak streets on a camel to these gracious "Mail Mademoiselles"

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