one two buckle mye belt
three four move the computor to the door
five six pick up the belt pouch next
seven eight get the black bag straight
nine ten off to town again
eye do this every day
to make the poems that we
love to line the cages of the birds upon
them crows you keep to make you sleep
the later then you think it was
the air is all eye need to fly
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Hay Cleveland
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