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there's still a few old men
who can shoe a horse,
plow with a mule....
build their own house,
hunt for their food,
and grow the rest...
talk to you about books
no one reads anymore....
sharpen a knife, bait a hook,
teach a boy to be a man...
and a girl that she's loved.
work all day and love all night....
string their own guitar...
treat a woman with respect....
stand beside you through
both good and bad...
what you gonna do when
all the old men are gone?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
True, how removed are we from the skills of life....?