Come sit and I will serenade
A sad, colossal flub,
A tale about a marinade.
(Well, truthfully a rub)
It is a long and sordid tale;
Not sure where to begin.
My sensibilities assailed,
Yet I must jump on in.
The task at hand, a piece of meat
Or two, if truth be told.
No better than a beggar’s fare,
And fast approaching old.
No hint of...
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