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My Cot
I own a dainty little cot
Begirt about with roses,
Standing in a shady spot
Amid most verdant closes.
The door was bolted, locked and barred,
All entrance was denied there,
They vainly sought to force the ward
Who tried before I tried there.
They tried with gold and silver keys,
With vows and protestations,
They summoned every art to please,
Exotics of all nations.
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