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A little old lady named Bonnie McBride
Rode a vintage bike with a gleam of pride.
Her hair flew wild in the morning breeze,
She popped a wheelie with the greatest of ease.
In the sidecar sat her partner in crime,
A cat named Clyde with impeccable grime.
With a pistol in paw and a gangster’s glare,
He meowed, “Let’s ride!” with a felonious flair.
They tore through town like a thunderous gale,
Knocking over mailboxes, chasing their tail.
The townsfolk cheered or dove for cover—
Who knew crime sprees could be such a bother?
So if you hear rumbling down your lane,
And a feline howls like a runaway train,
It’s Bonnie and Clyde, the infamous pair,
Leaving mayhem, motor oil, and long cat hair.