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| Adam There once was a fellow named Adam whose garden got paved with macadam So he came to my still And swallowed my swill And told me this tale of his Madam-- "In a plot by the church Eve was weedin' With me right behind sowin’ seed in. When 'No, moans the wife, I am sick of this strife, I deserve to be living in Eden.' 'My Dear,' reply I with a slur, 'I don’t think that God will concur.' Says Eve, 'For Christ sake, Let’s eat with that Snake, Beats hell out of spreading manure.' 'My Lady,' says I, 'I’m no prig, But don’t dine with Satan, that pig. If you really must munch On fruit after lunch Reach under my leaf for a fig.' 'Bedevil your figs, have an apple!' She laughs, and we playfully grapple. We wrestled as one Until we were done. (The nuns saw it all from the chapel.) The next time I garden with Eve, I will have an old trick up my sleeve. I will hide in the loam A temptational pome: 'Tis better to give than receive." Adam paid me and had a last drink; And giving a nod and a wink He flung an old sack On his velvet clad back And left by the flue near the sink. |
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