Their laughter was like the stridulation of the ghosts of grasshoppers.
This is the legend of Cassius Clay, The most beautiful fighter in the world today.He talks a great deal, and brags indeed-y, of a muscular punch that's incredibly speed-y.The fistic world was dull and weary,But with a champ like Liston, things had to be dreary.Then someone with color and someone with dash, Brought fight fans are runnin' with Cash.This brash young boxer is something to see And the heavyweight championship is his des-tin-y.This kid fights great; he__ got speed and endurance,But if you sign to fight him, increase your insurance.This kid's got a left; this kid's got a right,If he hit you once, you're asleep for the night.And as you lie on the floor while the ref counts ten,You__l pray that you won__ have to fight me again.For I am the man this poem__ about,The next champ of the world, there isn__ a doubt.This I predict and I know the score,I__l be champ of the world in _64.When I say three, they__l go in the third,10 months agoSo don__ bet against me, I__ a man of my word.He is the greatest! Yes!I am the man this poem__ about,I__l be champ of the world, there isn__ a doubt.Here I predict Mr. Liston__ dismemberment,I__l hit him so hard; he__l wonder where October and November went.When I say two, there__ never a third,Standin against me is completely absurd.When Cassius says a mouse can outrun a horse,Don__ ask how; put your money where your mouse is!I AM THE GREATEST!
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This is the legend of Cassius Clay, The most beautiful fighter in the world today.He talks a great deal, and brags indeed-y, of a muscular punch that's incredibly speed-y.The fistic world was dull and weary,But with a champ like Liston, things had to be dreary.Then someone with color and someone with dash, Brought fight fans are runnin' with Cash.This brash young boxer is something to see And the heavyweight championship is his des-tin-y.This kid fights great; he__ got speed and endurance,But if you sign to fight him, increase your insurance.This kid's got a left; this kid's got a right,If he hit you once, you're asleep for the night.And as you lie on the floor while the ref counts ten,You__l pray that you won__ have to fight me again.For I am the man this poem__ about,The next champ of the world, there isn__ a doubt.This I predict and I know the score,I__l be champ of the world in _64.When I say three, they__l go in the third,10 months agoSo don__ bet against me, I__ a man of my word.He is the greatest! Yes!I am the man this poem__ about,I__l be champ of the world, there isn__ a doubt.Here I predict Mr. Liston__ dismemberment,I__l hit him so hard; he__l wonder where October and November went.When I say two, there__ never a third,Standin against me is completely absurd.When Cassius says a mouse can outrun a horse,Don__ ask how; put your money where your mouse is!I AM THE GREATEST!
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They say revenge is a dish best served cold. This isn__ correct. Revenge is a dish best served lukewarm or at room temperature (depending on the room) with a side of sauerkraut lightly sprinkled with pepper, a generous helping of golden brown roasted potatoes, and a large loaf of marble rye, washed down with any kind of unfiltered wheat beer.But whatever you do__nd remember this, as it can be a matter of life or death__on__ put any sort of fruit in the beer. Fruit doesn__ belong in beer.
Just behind his jaw bones a tiny movement was perceptible, like the movement of gills in a fish.
Franklin Fletcher dreamed of luxury in the form of tiger-skins and beautiful women. He was prepared, at a pinch, to forgo the tiger-skins. Unfortunately the beautiful women seemed equally rare and inaccessible. At his office and at his boarding-house the girls were mere mice, or cattish, or kittenish, or had insufficiently read the advertisements.
How happy I might be, if only she was less greedy, better tempered, not addicted to raking up old grudges, more affectionate, with slightly yellower hair, slimmer, and about twenty years younger! But what is the good of expecting such a woman to reform?
There are some young almond tress, which ordinarily look as if drawn by a childish hand. Now, as the wind sets their weak branches gibbering, they seem like shamanistic scratches on the white bone of the brittle bright night.