There once was a dandy from Kent
Who fancied himself quite the gent.
The ladies would flock.
In them he kept stock,
That always he'd have next month's rent.
There once lived a tramp in the gutter
Who'd slur every word that he'd utter.
And though folks would try,
They couldn't reply,
Because of his terrible stutter.
Through all of my life, friends I've been
With one wealthy gent, name of Ken.
Appears quite uncouth,
And loves his vermouth,
But only when paired with his gin.
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