That Man Called Gin
Spiced with no pinch of Sugar
He was all salt and white vinegar
He was new in someway
But in others he was grey
Man of little words
Yet words were his sword
Fearless and firm
His world was built with a pen
Rare but real
Many did he drill
Paper as his block
Humans as his flock
Nations did he build
Wisdom as the tool
Immortal were his works
Though mortal he was
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