Tuesday, November 20, 2012

The Man From The Northlands

He is from the  place where the bog cotton grow
In the home of the rook and the silver back crow
By northern mountains from here far away
Where first he did look on the bright lamp of day
The place that he left when he was a young man
With a head full of dreams born of youthful elan
Of making it big in the big World out there
The wander bug in him for places elsewhere
Though he did have many women in his life
He never had children or never had a wife
And he was quite  partial to his pot of cheer
He did enjoy stout and he did enjoy beer
But all is quiet and dark where at rest he does lay
The man from the Northlands was buried today.

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