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The Ballad[e] Of The Bore

I see him come from far,
And, sick with hopelessness,
Invoke some kindly star,-
I see him come, no less.
Is there no sure recess
Where hunted men may lie?
Ye gods, it is too hard!
I feel his glittering eye,-
Defend us from The Bard!

He knows nor let nor bar:
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7/28/2021 8:39:52 AM # 1.0.0.666