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  Come gather round all ye street tipplers of Kent
  with yer Nike's 'n' shell-suits 'n' elbows bent
  Come now 'n' join me 'n' give forth with one voice
  to praise the white cider, our tipple o' choice...
  
  Nah!
  Singin' is borin' 'n' I don't give a whit
  just give me a pound, I need more of it
  
  [if only they stuck with Kent's own, Rough Old Wife]

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