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Buzz off, Banana Nose; Relieve mine eyes Of hateful soreness, purge mine ears of corn; Less dear than army ants in apple pies Art thou, old prune-face, with thy chestnuts worn, Dropt from thy peeling lips like lousy fruit; Like honeybees upon the perfum'd rose They suck, and like the double-breasted suit Are out of date; therefore, Banana Nose, Go fly a kite, thy welcome's overstayed; And stem the produce of thy waspish wits: Thy logick, like thy
⚡ -- 📀 -- 🌋 -- 👔 -- 🥒 -- 📘 -- 🏓 -- 🌳 -- 👃 -- ⛳ -- 🍖 -- 🌏 -- 📀 -- 🐠 -- 👑