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Montressor
You pugnacious old fool, Fortunato, You can chug all the grog in my grotto; Then halt in my vault For an full-out assault While you cough with staccato bravado. You'll be sealed in the wall like Don Gato In that story by Edgar the Blotto. As you catch a slow death And breathe your last breath, I shall bellow Tomayto! Tomahto! And I'll sip on my sweet 'montillado, Then whisper my family motto If you dare to Impugn, Revenge will come Soon. May you die ere you reach El Dorado. Fortunato* You pompous old bastard, Montressor, Your motto should meet an eraser. Construction’s an art, Not the way friend’s should part. And what of your wife, can you face her? Who cares if it's Monty or sherry? Or if beavers be hirsute (that's hairy)? You drink to vermouth, But your gin wants the truth, And the truth is you ain't very scary. So chomp on a nugget of niter, If Maddy stops by, you can bite her. We'll not meet in that world Where the gates are all pearled, But a place that is hotter and brighter. *Mostly by Dennis Collins Johnson |
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