Classic Poem

The formulas of recognition
Apply themselves to memories.
There's where,
There's when,
There's there.

Yes, a nice time.
I met three fishermen out on the bay
Who couldn't understand language.
I found a mercadon —
What's a mercadon? —
And dined with native nobility,
But there's no place like home!

Yes, true-love — not travel.
It was a sky
Not just to look at
But prove —
If possible,
If possible.

I went up of love,
I fell down of loves.
There's no place like home!

Townsfolk, untwirl these casings
From Paris and Heaven.