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Poem

SHE wants to go unto the shore,
And pack her trunk
With gowns no one has seen before,
And all such junk.

But I would seek some far off place
Where I ‘m unknown,
And let my whiskers deck my face,
And be alone.

She sighs for parties and for teas,
They are her wish;
I merely want to take my ease
And loaf and fish.

She wants to lead a life that’s grand,
In silken skirts;
I want to wear old trousers and
My outing shirts.

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