Ode to a bellyful of ale

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Methinks perchance thou art drunk,
You wantonly idle peasant,
Belch'st thee oft in thine goblet,
My merry wicked drunkard?
Alas, with what vulgar poison
Tormented is that woman,
Hast thy wench no breasts?
O' loathsome friend of my codpiece!
Slander your lazy bosom,
Damn it!

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Infinite Improbability Drive

Infinite Improbability Drive

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