Another Jingle

I wasn’t so happy /to be born in a manger/better off, fleet of foot,/but I was born in cahoots /with sunny tunes and a smell of turpentine./The rocks dissolve/regroup in as wind,/they dislike the words I tend to use:/ more than anyone can say./Hostile keeper of green money:/I rode the rails at breakneck speed,/somehow justified: /eager eyes on rusty scuppers, brown rooms/ full of tea in tin saucers


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