"I went into the gas station, said, Fill 'er up, Harry. The guy said, Regular? I said, No, put on a gorrila suit and dance like a fairy."

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Did you ever hear Of the frolic fairies dear? They're a blessed little race, Peeping up in fancy's face, In the valley, on the hill, By the fountain and the rill; Laughing out between the leaves That the loving summer weaves.

— Frances Sargent Osgood