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The ex Soldier An Allegory A foul furtive fellow, came a knocking at Joe's door, what doth thou want, thou craven knave, Speak up else I put thee in thy grave, I mean no harm my master The ill looking creature moaned I ask for but a bite of bread and he turned away and groaned. A pox upon your body and a curse upon your soul, Have I been put upon this earth? to feed the likes of you, A beggar and a vagrant and perhaps a cut throat too, Be gone before I fetch my whip and tan your hide to blue. The beggar looked at Joe, and something in him stirred, Just now I called thee master, But thou art nothing but a turd, You treat me like a dog thou cur, I will not leave your sullied path, Until you call me sir. Big Joe could not believe his ears, and one step forward did he take, The beggar now to action took, His sprightly frame belied his look, and from beneath his ragged cloak, Pulled a heavy wooden stave of oak. I may, on hard times, have fallen, Swallowed pride and not been outspoken, Twas before my soul had been broken, for I once was a soldier a good one to boot, With crossbow I could any man outshoot, Accoutred with short sword and pike, I could hold my own with anyone you like. Although not afraid Joe looked at him wry, Perhaps his harsh words had been hasty, He looked at him now with a new look in his eye, Wouldst like a taste of wife's new baked pie, I am happy good sir to try thee at quarterstaff, But prithee refresh thee with some pie and some ale, And you can regale us with your soldierly tale. The soldier looked up, a new light, bathed his face, I thank thee master for thy most kind words, They show thee a gentleman, full of fine grace. I pray forgiveness, if I, offence to you have given, Your words inside made me cry, By them was my temper driven. I am now the me, that I used to be, I accept your offer most gratefully.
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