Chapter 45 ANOTHER, AT CHESTER No.45

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.

            
            

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