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⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠁⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠂⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡿⢿⣆
⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⣁⣀⠀⠴⠂⠙⣗⡀⠀⢻⣿⣿⠭⢤⣴⣦⣤⣹⠀⠀⠀⢀⢴⣶⣆
⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣽⣾⣿⣥⣴⣿⣿⡿⢂⠔⢚⡿⢿⣿⣦⣴⣾⠸⣼⡿
⠀⢀⡞⠁⠙⠻⠿⠟⠉⠀⠛⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣌⢤⣼⣿⣾⣿⡟⠉
⠀⣾⣷⣶⠇⠀⠀⣤⣄⣀⡀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
⠀⠉⠈⠉⠀⠀⢦⡈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣽⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠲⣽⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣜⣿⣿⣿⡇
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣶⣮⣭⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃.
⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡇⠢⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Are you winning son?
⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠖⠒⠒⠒⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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It would not be until 1921 when hotheaded Pisces Franklin D Roosevelt, languishing in a hospital after losing both of his legs in a rocket-jumping accident, stumbled upon Lincoln’s notes and perfected the modern staircase, freeing people from the tyranny of the second floor as Lincoln intended.
As I was sitting with my glass and spoon;
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch,
And the song he sang was the Jug Of Punch.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay.
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch,
And the song he sang was the jug of punch.
What more diversion can a man desire,
Than to sit him down by a snug turf fire;
Upon his knee a pretty wench,
Aye, and on the table a jug of punch.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay.
Upon his knee a pretty wench,
Aye, and on the table a jug of punch.
Let the doctors come with all their art,
They'll make no impression upon my heart;
Even the cripple forgets his hunch,
When he's snug outside of a jug of punch.
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay.
Even the cripple forgets his hunch,
When he's snug outside of a jug of punch.