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Speaking of brie, its homophone is Bree, and I rewrote the chorus of Land Down Under by Men At Work:
Travelling just north of Haradwaith,
hitching a fairy to ditch the Ringwraith.
We met a gatekeeper, he made us nervous,
but he let us in for second breakfast.
And he said, "what's your business with us here in Bree?
Will you be staying at the Prancing Pony?
Did you come here by the ferry?
I heard tell of queer folk from buckleberry."
Wow. Okay. So anyway.
We bought brie today. Write me a poem about it. But it can't involve middle earth
Brie, your molten core,
reminiscent of magma,
but not half as hot.
Terrible effort. Where is your heart?
You couldn't even put something in there about WQ, racism and tattoos that look like someone threw up shit?