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The
Barman |
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And
while we're at it, let's pass on the names of all those jolly swashbuckling
villainous rogues to the local constabulary. Where do you think you're going boy the Barman said to me We don't close 'til eleven thirty and I did not give you leave Then he led me to his counting house to talk in privacy When Catiline planned rebellion to please the gods of war They drank the blood of a serving man to bind them to the cause You may toast our misdemeanours boy as we will drink to yours But I'm not the martial kind and I have no military skill I don't know what it's like to fight I don't want to know what it's like to kill But he would not heed my answer poured out a measure to settle the deal The clock in the old town
square had just struck two again Armed and scarcely sober
then he led his men outside
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