The fellows we meet

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The first fellow we meet

is one fine looking leaf

we pass him by with a friendly nod

and up the path we do trod on.

 

The second chap has a sweet mint perfume

his offered candy we do consume.

 

And by and by we come upon

a short little fellow with a blue coat on.

 

We then pass a lady, her skin quite pale

her belongings scattered across the winding trail

in her left hand she holds a cigar

though it has begun to rain

she puffs it hard.

 

We pass a man who is brittle and frail

he looks like he needs a good ginger ale.

 

The last we meet by a rotted gate

his trunk is twisted in a gnarled state

a home once stood under his weathered boughs

a final sentinel, a lonely plough.

 


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