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Poem by Jonathan Swift
The Garden Plot
When Naboth's vineyard look'd so fine, The king cried out, 'Would this were mine!' And yet no reason could prevail To bring the owner to a sale. Jezebel saw, with haughty pride, How Ahab grieved to be denied; And thus accosted him with scorn: 'Shall Naboth make a monarch mourn? A king, and weep! The ground's your own; I'll vest the garden in the crown.' With that she hatch'd a plot, and made Poor Naboth answer with his head; And when his harmless blood was spilt, The ground became his forfeit guilt.
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