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1842–1914

A GUEST.

Ambrose Bierce

Death, are you well? I trust you have no cough That's painful or in any way annoying — No kidney trouble that may carry you off, Or heart disease to keep you from enjoying

Your meals — and ours.‘ T were very sad indeed To have to quit the busy life you lead. You've been quite active lately for so old A person, and not very strong-appearing.

I'm apprehensive, somehow, that my bold, Bad brother gave you trouble in the spearing. And my two friends — I fear, sir, that you ran Quite hard for them, especially the man.

I crave your pardon:‘ twas no fault of mine; If you are overworked I'm sorry, very. Come in, old man, and have a glass of wine. What shall it be — Marsala, Port or Sherry?

What! just a mug of blood? That's funny grog To ask a friend for, eh? Well, take it, hog!

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A GUEST. · Ambrose Bierce · Poetry Cove