"For, although common Snarks do no manner of harm,
Yet I feel it my duty to say,
Some are Boojums--" The Bellman broke off in alarm,
For the Baker had fainted away.

They roused him with muffins--they roused him with ice--
They roused him with mustard and cress--
The roused him with jam and judicious advice--
They set him conundrums to guess.

From "The Hunting of the Snark" by Lewis Carroll

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