Oh, the jobs people work at! out west near hawtch-hawtch there's a hawtch-hawtcher bee watcher, his job is to watch. is to keep both his eyes on the lazy town bee, a bee that is watched will work harder you see. so he watched and he watched, but in spite of his watch that bee didn't work any harder not mawtch. so then somebody said "our old bee-watching man just isn't bee watching as hard as he can, he ought to be watched by another hawtch-hawtcher! the thing that we need is a bee-watcher-watcher!". well, the bee-watcher-watcher watched the bee-watcher. he didn't watch well so another hawtch-hawtcher had to come in as a watch-watcher-watcher! and now all the hawtchers who live in hawtch-hawtch are watching on watch watcher watchering watch, watch watching the watcher who's watching that bee. you're not a hawtch-watcher you're lucky you see!
My uncle ordered popovers from the restaurant's bill of fare. and, when they were served, he regarded them with a penetrating stare. then he spoke great words of wisdom as he sat there on that chair: "to eat these things," said my uncle, "you must exercise great care. you may swallow down what's solid, but you must spit out the air!" and as you partake of the world's bill of fare, that's darned good advice to follow. do a lot of spitting out the hot air. and be careful what you swallow.