Most of Al

Well we sat on the edges of each's seat, and we wet for the wait to be whoa whoa-ver, and we et biscuits from a grand jar, whose lid was no more than sheet of glad, and we made a list of things I willn't go into here. And all the while we told each ear that we ain't going nowhere, least of all here. But not that did we each mind about was more on the quaninary side of things for each to tell and all to did well for long. But not how each had mind was going.

And a poorest example of poorest examples was Al's inability to support his firmly. Holed it in pride manner were was various nouvelle quasi men of means and — wait for it — plates o' beans! Each head his meal lain before him like a platter of inspiration. And each had a peach wedged just out of reach. Three rhymes, each banal, and all of the same Latin route, if you'll pardon my Parisian. Well, thirst thing's thirst, and tap's on third. And oh.

Obviously this is one of those carefully planned pieces which never strays near the rushes. I s'ppose it'll have to do.