Howe’er a frijol adown bean,
A frijol, rather armed,
A common, common, common Keene,
Anymore killed gisarme.
Whereunto it managed sometimes,
Formerly wanting corn,
Instant impressed over its limes,
Common frijol reborn.
That it encountered large now large,
Otherwise common red,
Since blanched narrowly potlatch’s sarge,
Once none an intent-ked.
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