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| You're crass and brass with no class, you ass! Don't sass me with your old bullshit! | |
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| But hear, my dear, a story so queer with which this balladeer shall try not to push it. | |
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| That was a stretch, you wretch, to fetch a rhyme to catch the judge's eye. | |
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| Your pardon, I cry! But why should I but try to fly away from the subject you deny? | |
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| Oh, speak, you freak, you meekish geek, what bleak tale do you spin? | |
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| I say, I pray, that I may sway you, much to your chagrin. | |
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