Restauwrong

Once a man named Mr Bryce

Ate dinner at the Café Spice.

He shouted: ‘Waiter! Your advice?’

The waiter came back in a trice

(Or three whole hours, to be precise),

And on the plate, a single slice

Of Himalayan rain-fed rice

With garnishes of fine-shaved ice.

Mr Bryce began to dice

The ice with silver chopsticks (most concise).

He got the bill. Looked once. Looked twice.

And screamed ‘Good Lord, is that the price?’

Then fell down dead (it was not nice).

And so, here endeth Mr Bryce.

 

 

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