Ye floods, ye woods, ye echoes, moan / My dear Columbo, dead and gone.

[J]ust before the rhythm becomes iambic, there will be a point reached at which the rhythm can hardly be said to be more iambic than it is trochaic.

The last one was a satirical documentary about sorostitute joggers around town called Joggin'.

The new apartment complex will have 50 units.