Hail Mjollnir, The soundest of instruments. The mightiest of arms, The sturdiest of steel, The meanest of machinations, The shrewdest of the shrews, The sharpest of the migraines, The savagest, ghastliest And all the more ignominious. Hail Him who wields Mjollnir. Pity upon who frustrates. The anvil flabbergasted by the musicality, The machete, by the execution, The axe, by the rusticity, The steak, by the cultivation, The brush, by the artifice, The wrench, by the centrifugal impact, The shovel, by the resolve. The soldering iron scorned the immutability, The woodcutter, the unity, The screwdriver, the dullness, The saw, the impudence. The gears assemble And declare a labor strike.
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