Spicy goose palms

Remember the poem about the population when I was a kid: Gooses and Gooses and Sings. White hair, green water, red palms. When we were little, the big white geese were playing with us, and we were naughty, chasing a bunch of big white geese around the world, and the swinging geese and ducks had no choice but to find water fields and ponds, and then jump into the water, and then look at us on the shore, staring at us and completely forgetting what we had just started. When we were little, many little animals were playing with us, little white rabbits, little frogs, little garters, little ducks, and so on, but there was not a greedy heart that hurt them in pursuit of their good taste; when we grew up, did we lack the heart of the purest child, or the desire of our mouths to make those lovely little animals a plate of delicious food on the table. It's a paradox, man. In front of the food, you'd better compromise. It's a red-skinned goose palm, mixed with fresh red oil, and the entrances are spicy, spicy and delicious. If you're a guest at home and you're doing a pair of goose palms like this, it's not going to make you so happy that you clap your hands。