Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. There stepped forth a tall brown man. My foster mom works there as a second job. “Election be hanged!” he exclaimed. Had he been listening inside? ‘What is amiss?’ ‘That Frenchie, sir. .
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