Oh shed a tear for Peter Pender,
Whose goodwife ran him through a blender;
With clever seasonings, Peter’s wife
Made better of him than in his life;
Of mushroom, celery soup, or wheat,
She much preferred her Cream of Pete.
She did indeed
Enjoy him dead;
His steaks, his hams,
His sandwich spread.
Her husband's ghost
Had this misgiving;
She never ate him
When he was living.
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