AB-BOTS!
AB-BOTS!
AB-BOTS!
Whitey want lobster... like RED BUG with sharp steel set to its body.
FRI-DAY!
AB-BOTS!
(NO FOG!!!)
(Now, I know youse lot from Maine, New Hampshire, the part of Massachusetts that runs up and down and [even tho
its only an accident of history you're not Connecticut] Rhode Island tend to sneer loud and long at Abbots [and won't even admit to Costello's existence], but I'm from "Down Southie Land" where the only lobster we see is on a sign with "Red" as an adjective. I'm pretty sure that youse would call those things "small prawns", and that's why, when confronted by a lobster-simulative item at Abbots, I go berserk! Humor me, or feed me the real thing.)

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