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setembro 30, 2002 Quando eu vou a uma sala de bate-papo, este é o tipo de diálogo que eu procuro: - Let me sing you a song to comfort you. - Is it very long? - It's long, but it's very, very beautiful. Everybody that hears me sing it, either it brings the tears into their eyes, or else... - Or else what? - Or else it doesn't, you know. The name of the song is called Haddocks' Eyes. - Oh, that's the name of the song, is it? - No, you don't understand. That's what the name is called. The name really is The Aged Aged Man. - Then i ought to have said "That's what the song is called"? - No, you oughtn't: that's quite another thing! The song is called Ways and Means, but that's only what it's called, you know! - Well, what is the song then? - I was coming to that. The song really is A-sitting on a Gate; and the tune's my own invention. Nunca dá certo. Meu futuro filho ou filha está seriamente encrencado. mais um chororô de bel seslaf |
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