One evening last week I owned up to the fact that I had been lapping up far too much of my rest and relaxation from a screen, so during dinner I dipped austerely into a book that happened to be sitting by. I was rewarded for my dedication to study with these timeless lines:
(As far as I can tell, there is/ was no real volume of Mater Anser. The only relation to the poem above that I've been able to track down is a similarly macaronic "Parvus Jacobus Horner.")
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