WHEN I was a boy on the old plantation,
Down by the deep bayou,
The fairest spot of all creation,
Under the arching blue;
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A timeless piece of poetry As one forgets today's misery And the fate of all human being(s) In exchange forr a place on the old grapevine swing.
One of my grade school teachers used to read us poetry after lunch at rest time. I can't remember what age, but we were young. And this was our favorite. The language imitates the swinging of the grapevine. The kids used to join in joyfully on the refrain