Another, At Chester (epigrams On Windows)
My landlord is civil,
But dear as the d - l:
Your pockets grow empty
With nothing to tempt ye;
The wine is so sour,
'Twill give you a scour,
The beer and the ale
Are mingled with stale.
The veal is such carrion,
A dog would be weary on.
All this I have felt,
For I live on a smelt.
Jonathan Swift
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