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© MCMXCIV Timothy Patrick Butler

"O, for the sake of hungir do the Marshmellies grau;

Am ladin unto the East with branchis, branchis

And a full-out helpin' o' the cephalic flame!

Lo! Unto the West a three-legg-ed spiggit

Dancis, dancis to obiy Ithius Cren.

And well He is pleas-ed. Avast!

Thrice roastid, thrice toastid the marshmellies melt,

But where there were thirteen there are now

A score save sevin- a bakir's dozin!

For Ithius Cren is a tree that fails not.

Nevir is He barrin, nor is thire want!

Appeise me, appeise me, parteke of mi fruit

And the pact shall be seal-ed, nevir shall it be

Brokin, nor rint asundir! Thindir and Lightnin'!

Let no man scoff! He who believes not is a dolt!"

Thus spake Ithius Cren.


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