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Golda and Goofus.
or how a young Baer lost his luncheon and found that man need not live by bread alone.
Deep, deep in a pine-wood in the Adirondacks,
the Baers owned a cabin. [Offset against tax.]
Daddy Baer, it was said, was a Wall Street tycoon.
Red-Hot Momma Baer never rose before noon.
Their son, 'Goofus' Baer, was a no-good lazy bum;
always scratching his groin and chewing pink gum.
On a fine summer's day, the Baers went for a stroll,
left the lunch table set. [which you may think is droll]
Meantime, up wandered Golda, a pubescent blonde lass,
in a bright gingham dirndl and brim-full of sass.
Lost her way in the woods; she was hungry, footsore,
so without hesitation, she knocked on the door.
No answer, walked in, saw comestible display:
Daddy's cold chili 'carne, she passed sans delay.
Momma's limp spinach salad met with sheer disdain,
But Goofus's jelly doughnuts! She couldn’t refrain.
Washing down the repast with the Baer’s best root beer,
she felt so damn' tired - almost fell on her rear.
Climbing the stairs for much-needed repose,
she passed Daddy Baer’s chamber just wrinkling her nose.
Momma's chintzy boudoir was too outre to suit,
but Goofus's macho haven was darling and cute!
[Papered with Harley posters and pneumatic nudes.]
Golda dropped off to sleep - dreamt of muscle-bound pseuds.
Hungry from exertions, the Baers slavered for food:
adults - minor tampering – Goofus’s wakening was rude.
“My favouritest din-din’s been gobbled!" was his whine.
"They only nibbled yours, left the mere smell of mine!
I'm going to bed: don’t expect to see me soon.
There’s goodies stashed there: I'll work-out all afternoon."
Captin revisionist Cat
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