A Message for a Vagrant

I’m sorry, sir, vagrant,
But we’ve no room to let
(If you deem it wise)
But mind, kind sir,
That we don’t choose not, but CAN’T
We’ve bought barrels
And barrels
Of brine

The salesman came morn, with his brine-tastic offer
Pickling, and pickling galore!
At just seven dollars apiece
(Per barrel)
We shant’d give scorn
No! Bought us, did, eighty-three!

Storage came tricky:
Barrels huge, house less so
But cram!
And lug!
‘Til each room barreled be
Yes, each bedroom, parlor and den

Now think of the danger that face each of we:
I, my wife, and the kids
Chance o’ pickling death, big threat already is,
Would worsen
With one vagrant in

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