in condiments, how like a hot dog! the buns of the world! the pullover of Faroe Isle wool! And yet, to me, what is this mustard relish made of? Ham delights not me; no, nor bacon neither, though by your jibing you seem to say so.
Mauling Shakespeare 'bout the land, Mister Jay is here at hand, And the wit outdone to me Smirking here quite happily; Shall we two quite clever be? Lord, what fools all writers be!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-11 04:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-11 06:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-11 01:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-11 04:43 pm (UTC)(tag. You're it.)
no subject
Date: 2005-10-11 05:09 pm (UTC)No more, and by that sheep to our flock tend
The honeycomb's brake and the thousand unnatural socks
Knitted from that wool
no subject
Date: 2005-10-12 12:34 am (UTC)**vegetarian disclaimer
no subject
Date: 2005-10-12 01:16 am (UTC)the buns of the world! the pullover of Faroe Isle wool!
And yet, to me, what is this mustard relish made of?
Ham delights not me; no, nor bacon neither,
though by your jibing you seem to say so.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-12 05:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-12 06:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-12 07:53 pm (UTC)Mister Jay is here at hand,
And the wit outdone to me
Smirking here quite happily;
Shall we two quite clever be?
Lord, what fools all writers be!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-11 09:50 am (UTC)