 A poet, that's what I'd like to be, Writing a book of poetry. I'd write and write every week, Until I'd have my book complete. I'd write about the wind and rain, Pattering on the window pane, I'd write about the flowers in Spring I'd write about the birds that sing. Perhaps I'll finish my book today, But exactly when, I couldn't say. And after all the trouble I took It should be a very rewarding book. Michael O'Shea 3A |
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