The Toll-Keeper’s Song

It’s a small price to pay
Said the man at the toll,
As he held out his palm
And I paid with my soul.

For the man was of envy,
This man was all sin,
I thought I was driving
But he steered me within.

Now I am the toll-keeper
Plaintive with song;
My palm’s always empty,
The night’s always long.

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