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Posted

Deep down in the didgery dell,

where the old owls hoot and the greyhounds tell,

of their race for a sensible nell,

stands a broken old tree,

with a broken old branch

and never a hope in hell.

all deep down in the didgery dell.

 

The tree, once proud,

Stood high as a cloud,

With roots stretching all the way down.

It witnessed the years from acorn to oak,

And heard the promises the human men spoke.

But the tree did not see one instance of when,

They honoured their word; the promises all broke.

 

[to be continued]

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