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Dance for me, little monkey; pun for me, my precious.

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by kaufman
The nights grow long, Temperatures do wane. We cross the Channel To hone our playin'. This club in Hamburg Shall thus effect...
Now is the winter of our discotheque! So shake it up, urchin, Twist and shout, No one can silence us 'Til this long night is out.
Art thou quite sure? I fear we may be infected by a Teutonic plague, a nasty rat bite may end our loud night.
Fearest not, for if we play, God wins. Laws, even, are nary enow to bring our set to a ...
* end show*
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this comic belongs to set
William Shakespeare's Four Gentlemen of Liverpool

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