I yearn for the sea, With no sails I'm forlorn, 'cause I'm now in the clink. It's a dollar per corn.

I am every day except for one that one leaps in when its his time And If I'm Greg or Julian Is how he'll set his rhyme.

Toll free, for the most part, unless in a church. Be careful when you ring to call, for you could summon Lurch. Cleanings must be done, weather can leave brass besmirched. Don’t have a cow, there’s one that’s cracked, in its center, Philly perched.

Annual meteorology, Ancient 'technology'? Soil-pig's sign, Of climate timeline?

A film style born in the seventies and eighties, where villains were gory - not spooky, just crazies. They’d cut your throat, strike from a boat, but no matter what, they’d never croak. Machetes, knives, gloves with blades - no bullet can stop these horror parades.