But we, we band of callow joysters, Unlike those merchants filled with cares, Have been expecting only oysters … From Istanbul, the seaside’s wares. What news of oysters? Here? What rapture! And off runs glutton youth to capture And slurp from salty shells those bites Of plump and living anchorites, With just a dash of lemon flavour. What din, debates! The good Automne* From cellar store has just now come With sparkling wine for us to savour. The time goes by and, as it goes, The bill to awesome stature grows.
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