Uh oh, we have a burgeoning poet now. Bob, me thinks you have WAY TOO MUCH time on your hands?The mighty fists of .358 righteousness,
Didn't make the DG power list,
With the .243 lumped in they stay,
On lesser game they're forced to prey.
On the African Savannah you hear them roar,
At hyenas, impalas and wild boar.
With Dagga Boys they cannot play,
And with the .243's they must stay.
So shout and drink your .35 sorrows away,
Cuz with .243's you must stay.