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speaking of poetry, I have a poem given to me by a master binder you might
"Solemn curse pronounced by Ben Burnisher Źget it?┘ upon a Master Bookbinder,
upon a particular occasion...
May rats and mice devour your paste
Your paper and your leather;
May your hand letters be defaced,
Your types all mixed together.
May all your pallets, stamps and rolls,
Be on their faces battered;
Your beating stone peck'd full of holes,
Your hammer in pieces shattered.
And may your standing press fall down,
Your pressing boards be cracked,
May your law leather all turn brown,
Each law book edge get blackened.
May you be bothered all your life,
With workmen brandy lovers;
With sandy boards and dull plough knife,
Thin paste and horny covers.
And may your guilding all rub off,
Your roll burn through the leather,
And you henceforward be obliged
To finish in dry weather.
And may your polisher upon
The face be full of scratches,
May every cover you put on
At least have twenty patches.
May all your colors be too strong,
So as to rot your leather,
May all your books be lettered wrong,
Your flyleaves stick together.
May your laying presses all get broke,
Your books be wrong collated;
And may you with foul charcoal smoke
Be almost suffocated.
May your apprentice run away,
Your business be diminished;
And may your booksellers never pay
You, when your work is finished.
God grant that you distressed may be,
From constable to beadle;
And live till you can't feel or see
Your press-pin from your needle."
The end. Thank you. Don E. Sanders