**A Lamentation Upon Ye Overpricéd Salad of Kettlemen’s Subway**
*(in the style of Old English-inspired Modern Verse)*
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O hark! Attend this woeful tale I sing,
Of Subway's hall in Kettlemen, foul thing.
Where hunger led me, weary from the road,
To seek a salad, simple, light of load.
No beastly flesh nor cheeses did I crave,
But greens and herbs, which honest folk dost save.
Yet lo! The screens, once bright with gilded fare,
Were black as night — no prices listed there.
I spake: “Good sir, a salad I do seek,
With but few greens and sauce, so mild and meek.”
He nodded swift and gathered leaf and root,
Sans meat or grain or anything acute.
Yet when the tally came — a grievous sight!
Sixteen gold coins, as if it were a knight’s!
No rib nor roast to justify the fee,
Naught but some lettuce in a bowl for me.
O villainy! O cunning, silent theft!
No cost was shown — I stood there, sore bereft.
The board lay dark, no numbers did it show,
So how should simple folk the pricing know?
Ye subway knights, who dwell in Kettle’s keep,
Thy greed dost wake the lion from his sleep.
Wouldst rob a traveler, worn and poor of soul,
Then smile and drop his silver in thy bowl?
A pox upon thy register and screen,
Thy salad charged like feasts for lords and queens.
I warn thee now — all travelers beware,
Lest ye pay dearly for a breath of air.
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*Thus ends my verse, in sadness steeped and long —*
*Subway of Kettlemen, thou did me wrong.*