| rev:text
| - Was a cold, winter's day on the Mount,
Spending some time giving back,
Twenties or thirties by count,
But good company it never did lack.
A chill had settled in our bones
And a hunger had grown in our gut,
I-Naba was locked in our phones
To free us from our ravenous glut.
Fine noodles were the choice of the day,
Some took the cold, some the hot,
In a broth that could chase blues away,
In a bowl, on a plate or a pot.
A friend who was eager to help,
Helped me pick out the best Naba plate.
Her passion for all that is Yelp,
Gave her insight to all that is great.
The Soba to me was unknown,
But delightful I found it to be,
As my love of this fare is just grown,
I can't wait for what next I will see.
For wherever your hunger be found,
Be it small, just a bit or a lotta,
I would bother to say come around
And sample the fare at I-Naba.
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