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Red Henries All along the midnight rambling The samba crews were near The sweet smell of herring gambling Brought the night light still with fear So whither walks the midland fairy Whose quiver stuffed with rabbit fur Eats long the whisky whiskers hairy Or drinks with him as if with her But far from fairies o’er the land And near to Henry’s Henries’ ships The view from there was ne’er grand As to fill ones heart with pursing lips Thus were all the kings of lore to die Thus did the princes’ wives all lie Allan Revich April 3, 2006 |
