A Poem I Wrote on the T

I know an inn where the board is fine

and the goodman host keeps the door unbarred

Where the table is spread with bread and wine,

and the horses stamp in the stable-yard

Over the door hangs a wooden sign

The sign of the man hanging on the tree

The goodman host bellows “Come and dine!

“Dine on me, dine on me.”

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