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Poetry of the darker side. |
| Soul to tarry with no pain to carry Is what she said as she wept The more the merry the more that can carry her body o’ ashes in the marching kept Soul to tarry a new soul to ferry across each daunting river stick The more I care the worse I would fare so it’s best not to, lest I’d be sick [A,A,B-C,C,B-D,D,E-F,F,E] |