Let No Man Say

LET no man say that I am nearly done for. My head is bowed but not unduly bloody, And though my trousers are a trifle muddy, Mud, after all, is what the tweed was spun for. I have an ounce of gold; what is a ton for? The gem-encrusted Gaekwar on his gadi, The swart … Continue reading Let No Man Say

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