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In an old town, Up a hill by,
Far from a running small river
That a little bird could sip dry;
Night were black as fur of tiger.

All of the trees would turn gold
All of the earth as wine is brown
Sleep in here was quiet and cold
Peace breathlessly falling down.

In an old town, Up a hill by,
No car had ever ran its road
No jet had ever flown its sky
By reason no crash is ever told.

Men which lived in were few,
But the town, a powerful king
Its walls--had prepared to hew
Everything down to nothing.

There lived a poor man, Lazarus
Lonely, He had a coat and an hat
That smell could make one loss
The wanting for a dishy breakfast.

In men's nostrils lies their grave,
A trap in each breathe of a loon
But wisdom can keep one save,
Wisdom is more better than weapon.

Lazarus was wise, for that cause
He could saved the whole town;
But nobody thought of Lazarus,
The war came and burnt the town down.

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4/19/2021 7:37:51 AM #