My Dearest Martha,
It's so cold here at Valley Forge.
I can't take it much more.
I have so little to eat,
And worn out shoes on my feet.
My uniform is in tatters,
And a bullet just shattered
The kerosene lamp I used for reading.
Soon my hands will start bleeding
From the stinging frostbite
That afflicts me day and night.
I just can't wait to come home to you.
So Martha, what's new?
Love,
George
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