A Quit Notice
His quit notice hung with a tack
Bears his landlord’s wish that he pack:
Disappear with his threadbare sack
And not leave behind his rack;
Both now strapped on his confused back,
His famous peace pierced with this hack!
No comforting whisky from a just left shack,
His belongings bespeaking his lack,
His dragging feet his customary slack,
As he keeps weighing a night at Hotel De Jack
Run by Abusive Jack,
Sometimes in a hurry worth a whack!
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