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At Sugar Camp

At Sugar Camp the cook is kind
And laughs the laugh we knew as boys;
And there we slip away and find
Awaiting us the old-time joys.
The catbird calls the selfsame way
She used to in the long ago,
And there's a chorus all the day
Of songsters it is good to know.

The killdeer in the distance cries;

The thrasher, in her garb of brown,
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7/25/2021 11:17:11 PM # 1.0.0.663