Poem - Phishing

Poem - Phishing 'stands before you? Only the one.  Torwold Browntooth grinned, and showed  how he had won his name. no greeting for a brother long away?  Nor you, Asha?  How fares your lady mother?' - From Christ Michaud.  fully arch, the subject line advises. His random email a phishing  a succulent call, to acknowledge him for He will make you a phisher of men. James A Bullion - December 2008