My friend, the idiot, thinks that he can take the fish we brought from Humboldt fresh before he learns to soak the beans that grow in every soil in drought of flood;
He thinks that he can reap rewards of refrigeration — even freezing — before he learns to use the bounty of the earth alone
Of course, this is what I get for buying fish with dollars got by writing compound nothings for men who no know better than my friend, the idiot
It’s just I wish that I had got to taste that fish;
Oh well, it’s good that I like beans