HOME OF THE SILVERSMITH

 Twas a dark and stormy night.

Twas a cold and stony floor.

You crept along midst failing light

To find the bathroom door.

Where you thought it was,

Alas, twas not.

Youíve relieved yourself

In a pickle pot.

But donít despair,

Nor yet foreswear.

The truth is not so hard to bear.

Tis not a dream, nor yet a myth.

Youíre living with a silversmith.

 

By James R. Grant

 

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