At the bottom of the barrell,
Was a sight that would assail you.
Years of grime,
Accumulated over time.
Staves that were scarred,
Its inside charred.
It had greatly been used,
And very much abused.
Often kicked,
And variously nicked.
It tells a tale,
Of rain and hail.
Of days gone by,
It does not lie.
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Bottom of the Barrel
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At the bottom of the barrell,
Was a sight that would assail you.
Years of grime,
Accumulated over time.
Staves that were scarred,
Its
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Poetry: Bottom of the barrel
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