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Young Writers Society


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While you ponder this, enjoy a poem:


Faking Boy to the Crap is Gone, The (1841)
by Bon Gaultier

The faking boy to the crap is gone,
At the nubbing-cheat you’ll find him;
The hempen cord they have girded on,
And his elbows pinned behind him.
“Smash my glim,” cries the reg’lar card,
“Though the girl you love betrays you,
Don’t split, but die both game and hard,
And grateful pals shall praise you.”

II

The bolt it fell,—a jerk, a strain!
The sheriff’s fled asunder;
The faking-boy ne’er spoke again,
For they pulled his legs from under.
And there he dangles on the tree,
That sort of love and bravery!
Oh, that such men should victims be
Of law, and law’s vile knavery.


i got called an enigma once so now i purposefully act obtuse
— chikara