Of Lice And Men Poem by James McLain
Of Lice And Men
Wits less, is the man who forget his mouse,
when he goes abroad.
Sleeping in quarters above him.
Gravity works the same,
where ever you go.
Loose are the wits of the omens up stairs,
one light in the front is always red,
in the dark..
The lice leave the mice alone,
while the men pay.
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5/10/2024 10:19:27 PM # 1.0.0.1119
