Friar Tuck and the Eggs Benedict
Well laid, and dressed, this morning’s meal;
The blessing was well said,
Which made the friar wonder
. . . . . . . . .
 This particular poem is replete (folded over, sideways, and into) with puns. One might say it is positively peppered with them. But the professor has been careful to avoid salt, which is responsible for four (4) out of every five (5) serious headaches, and would never, ever commit the horrendous and unforgiveable blasphemy of pouring catsup (‘ketchup,’ to you Yanks and Canucks) over it.
Puns (paronomasia, which is not that part of the Fareast where everyone fidgets, looks nervously around, and suspects their neighbors of various degrees of villainy and treachery; though it—paronomasia, not treachery—is often practised there) are incidences of what is called “wordplay,” but in this case everyone is picked first and no one is left alone to feel pathetic and sorry for themselves. . . .