| What do we have along the lines of GHASTLY?
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| Naught but six with their cups in the punch bowl!
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| Truncheon-bruised and exaggerated piece-parts
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| Moldy, motley, screeching family!
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| With sunken chests the rotting pests are
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| Bound and wrapped in funeral garments
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| Dropsy, gout, and fast consumption…
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| Red and dead, they’re seeping siblings!
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| «What screams from thee, we’re much surprised!
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| Calm thyself and thy leaping forehead!
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| Stow thy scowl and bulging eyes!
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| Royal blood should be far from frowning!
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| We shall join thee and imbibe!
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| We’ll sit and sip from a broken skull!
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| Hello, my dear, were you aware that your mouth stretches ear to ear?»
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| What do we have along the lines of POISON?
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| Naught but a barrel of the devil’s own Black Strap!
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| «One gallon each to stow in thy hold! |
| A mulct, that’s mild in nature!»
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| «I regret that my hull is weighted!
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| Humming stuff is the only ballast-»
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| «Belay that noise, I’ve room to spare!
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| I’ll drink yours down in a draught-and-a-half!»
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| «But wait, I’ve only now divined, King Pest is Timothy Hurlygurly!
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| Stage actors have taken this, an undertaker’s for their playhouse!»
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| «Ill-bred rogue! |
| You mock my throne!
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| A King’s decree cannot be altered!
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| Make them thrash and drown in the October beer in yonder hog’s head!»
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| Tarpaulin’s sunk to his ears!
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| And the tall one is thrashing about
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| Pulling down bones from a post-mortem chandalier!
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| One knock and dead-duke and bursting the barrel
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| And freeing his fat friend and death to the Pests!
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| They bend from the weight of the two royal sisters
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| They carry the Pest to their ship
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| And the sea will bathe corpses…
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| The buoyantly dead shall abound! |