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My poetry rhymes. Some is about family, troubles and life. |
| Grandad was a trapper He trapped animals and kept the skin And carried the meat home in his cap By the way, they were wild and not in a pen He was good at it and made his own traps There was fifteen kids Back then, they even used the tree sap They were sold at the only store, and before hid With his money he bought shoes For all of the kids in winter to wear For in summer they all went barefoot, so each year they were new Without a scratch or a tear Until his mother caught him He was feeding a black panther in his house I wish I had that on film But he would leave food out and be as quiet as a mouse Then when he was caught the cat was out He laughed when he told it They lived in the country on a route But all the times he fed it never did anyone get bit |