The Most Heroic Palindrome

Tin Can House, Silver Springs, MD

Star? Not I! . . . He too has a wee bagel still up to here held. . . .

Sample hot Edam in a pan. I’m a rotten digger – often garden I plan, I agreed; All agreed? Aye, bore ensign; I’d a veto – I did lose us site. Wool to hem us? No, cotton. Site pen in acacias or petals a last angel bee frets in. . . .

Vendor pays: I admire vendee, his pots net roe. Nine dames order an opal fan; I’ll ask cold log fire vendor to log igloo frost. . . . Cat? No, I’m a dog; I’m a sad loyal pet. . . .

Hot pages are in a mag, nor will I peer, familiar tat, so lewd . . .

Sam’s a name held in a flat, or, sir, bedsit. I wonder, is it illicit ore? No ties? A bit under? Retarded? Is 'owt amiss? I’m on pot; not so Cecil, a posh guy a hero met. A red date was not to last so Cecil sat. . . .

Part on rose? It’s a petal. Define metal: Tin is . . . (I gulp!) can! . . .

No, draw a pot now, do! Of wary rat in a six ton tub. . . .

Semitone, not a tone, radios emit; no, on tape; elsewhere it’s a tone. . . .

No, it is opposite. Yaks I rode wore hats, albeit on deity’s orders. Rats age more held in a trap, nip and I know it – set no cage now. . . .

Macaroni, rats, as a hoot, tie. I vomit on rats.