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Ballade

The Foodgoer

"Hello I'm Irene and we also have Baked Schrod."

"These yardlong glasses once were giv'n to coachmen In their boxes

And used by Storks in Attic tymes to Guard their cause from foxes."

"By giant Hummingbirds," one wagge remarkes, and wipes his gleaming chin,

"May God refund the poor olde crone who dropped her glass eye in.

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It rolled and goggled down the neck until it lodged for fayre

And stared at her from halfway down, with sadlie fallen ayre."

Or when the mugge is hefted highe, to voyd the finall dregges,

The ale meanders o'er the chinne, and trickles down the legges.

"Progress," the barkeep gravely sayes, "The bigge ones had to come.

Just guess which neighboring sausige bin is rushing to order some?

Waldorf-St. Clair spent 250 grande to make this dumpe look olde,

"And is does," he shoutes and spits into an antique candle molde.

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