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A sighin' like, of unconsoled despair,
[Tumult'ous applause and cries of “Go on!" "Don't stop !"}
THE UNHAPPY LOT OF MR. KNOTT.
SHOWING HOW HE BUILT HIS HOUSE AND HIS WIFE
MOVED INTO IT.
My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott,
From business snug withdrawn,
And twelve feet more of lawn.
To give his taste expansion,
The building mania can shun,
A mediæval mansion.
“I want,” said he, a-you know what,
A thing complete from chimney-pot
Here's a half-acre of good land;
Just have it nicely mapped and planned
Meadow there is, and upland too,
And I should like a water-view,