Travelled to the Eastern Shore
Where there appeared Ducks Galore
The sky was cold
And the wind was fierce
There was no match for the aim of the beast
They named that day Lumpy of Downeast
He hails from that place
Where no man would race
Known best for smelly crustaceans and plants
That live right at home so deep in his pants
And, as we departed, wise Leroy turned with a grin
Crying that he hoped and he prayed never to see it again.
Ah, yes indeed; two men whose dialects are equally unintelligible beyond the limited confines of their respective homelands. May it ever be so.
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