A Sonnet To White House Burgers: Revolutionary Email Sonnet

Some thought them lowly burgers,/
but the company they kept/
elevated these patties much higher/
than any cow had ever lept.

Over the moon they flew,/
then back upon dinner plates./
Cheeses! Cheddar, Swiss or bleu!/
Seasoned to the taste.

The decor is historic/
in this intimate dining pub./
Yet at this lake aire White House/
the food is never called “grub”.

Whether in garden room, bar, or dining nook/
this cuisine gives a break you’ll be glad you took.*
OR
*this cuisine deserves a closer look.

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