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 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
374
A WATER-PIRATE
Pause, stranger—whence you lightly treadBill Carr's immoral part has fled.
For him no heart of woman burned,
But all the rivers' heads he turned.
Alas! he now lifts up his eyes
In torment and for water cries,
Entreating that he may procure
One drop to cool his parched McClure!
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |