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| There once was a fellow named Adam whose garden got paved with macadam. One day at my still He 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!' moaned the wife, 'I'm so sick of this life! I ought to be lounging in Eden.' I replied as I shoveled manure, 'I doubt that the lord would concur.' Said Eve, 'For Pete's sake, Let’s talk to the Snake, His fruits have appeal and allure.' 'My Lady,' said 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 fig and your Apple!' She laughed as we started to grapple. We wrestled as one. And then 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 With a doctored up pome. It's better to give than receive." Adam paid me and had a last drink; And giving a nod and a wink With a knack an old sack Was flung to his back And he left through the flue by the sink. |
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