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receive, it for the sake of pity!
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This offer won't stand forever."
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[And of course there are lots of phallic jokes here, so I hope you're getting those.]
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There I had her; she yawned and responded:
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"It's late.
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I'm tired." "Up the mast half a dozen
-
times I stormed and shinnied, took oar to my navigator,
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lost sight of Nestor,
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thundered and lightninged through poseidon's finny fief.
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When next I came to season, I stood a night slyly by while she
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dusk-to-dawned it, then saluted with this challenge her
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opening eyes: "Man born of woman is imperfect.