"Here in Eszterháza nobody asks me:" — Josef Haydn has spent the winter in Vienna; back at the palace in Fertőd where he is employed as Kapellmeister by Prince Nikolaus, he has to write one of his Viennese hosts, Marianne von Genzinger, a letter — , "nobody asks me: would you like some chocolate, with or without milk? Do you take coffee, black or with cream? What may I serve you, dearest Haydn, do you fancy vanilla ice cream or pineapple?"
Instead, he's presented with "pieces of a 50-year-old cow", some kind of carrot and "so-called grass salad".
The list goes on, and I'm sure Spamgourmet revels in devouring it all — leaving you but the ice cream and pineapple kind of mail:
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