(Blues-style poem)
It’s the tradition, it’s the custom,
That you have to follow,
Oh, why you look so glum?
Those past get-together,
Where were you?
Your turn to pay now, don’t be a dodger!
The eating house is all cleaned up,
No trace of the lavish party,
Your modest monthly wage is too burnt up!
Image credit
by David Woo.
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