The Bard - Poem by JOE POEWHIT
A nice bar, to stop and play.
The bard is here, what's to say?
Unpack fiddle, poems and gear.
Let me find, an empty ear.
So and what - this and that.
A wine bard, anymore raps.
Meal time - sing us a song.
'Hours late, must get along'.
Here are some coins bard.
Onward next bar, that roads hard
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