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12 To the stone-table in my garden,

Lov'd haunt of many a summer hour,

The Squire is come;—his daughter Bess

Beside him in the cool recess

Sits blooming like a flower.

With these are many more convened;

They know not I have been so far—

I see them there in number nine

Beneath the spreading Weymouth pine—

I see them—there they are!

There sits the Vicar, and his Dame;

And there my good friend, Stephen Otter;

And, ere the light of evening fail,

To them I must relate the Tale

Of Peter Bell the Potter."