by Leonard Pounds I fear every shadow, and corner that’s dark Each cranny I furtively scan In terror I list' for the dread bloodhound’s bark I’m a hunted, hunted man Grim Nemesis dogs me where’er I may flee Raised against me’s the hand of each man No grip of friendship’s extended to me For I’m under Society’s ban. Through good fortune I’ve managed thus far to get clear I escaped when confusion was high But I haven’t eluded that fury called fear And He whispers that capture is nigh I’ve existed on crusts that were thrown to the birds From puddles I’ve satisfied thirst When I’ve slept, dreams that won’t find expression in words Have made slumber a thing most accurst. Yet I can’t feel remorse - the sin was not mine My fault lay in weakness of mind My assistance was asked, and I p’r’aps was in wine But to friends I have ever been kind They besought - I succumbed - and the evil was done Why, oh, why did I ever agree? Yet I swear ‘twas not my fault they lost six to none I was merely the Poor REFEREE!!!
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