The Ecphorizer
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Had he but words enough, and time
He would be suited to our clime; His mistress could decline and balk While Marvell never ceased to talk In adoration of each breast, Yet never put her to the test. Time's winged chariot urged him on, But he would prate and prate anon, Till, bored, she all his lust declined, Convinced he'd only f-- her MIND! ![]() |
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(Or, When I was Anhungered and Athirst, 0 Brussels
Sprout with Buttered Breadcrumbs, Where Were You?) The parsnip and the artichoke
Are not for me. And not for me The turnip, crook'd neck squash, And gassy kohlrabi. The cabbage and the lowly leek I leave alone. I leave alone The soup greens, white radishes, And peppers in the minstrone. But spinach (creamed), corn-on-the--cob Is fit for kings. And fit for kings The potato, rice wild or tame And all such fattening things! ![]() |
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