I’m ready, Johnny. Read your poem.
– Yes, people, yes, it’s true –
I love that pretty, pretty Drew.
Yes, I love Drew; I love cinema,
Shakespeare, pizza, and my ma.
But Drew does not love me; she loves Pete.
When I see her, I spit! Spit, spit, spit, spit!
– Poor boy! Your mа loves you, Johnny! Give her a kiss!
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