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A raggedy old doll, all ***** and dusty, lying on the floor of old cabin. When snuggled at night, he sat up and sang, a verse of the spellbook of Sabians! “Golden-haired the raven!” “My heart warmed of her presence,” “Golden-haired the raven!” “Her flowering scents so pleasant,” “Golden-haired the raven!” “My mind about a treasure,” “Golden-haired the raven!” “My fortune is her pleasure,” “Golden-haired the raven!” “Lost I am you see?” “Golden-haired the raven!” “Sun-ray crowned was she!” “Golden-haired the raven!” “Oh golden haired my raven!” Just before dawn, he sat up in bed, to look upon his new little girl. Shined-up his button eyes, and tilted his head… then snuggled back into her curls.
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Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
Ipswich Stitch
A raggedy old doll, all ***** and dusty, lying on the floor of old cabin. When snuggled at night, he sat up and sang, a verse of the spellbook of Sabians! “Golden-haired the raven!” “My heart warmed of her presence,” “Golden-haired the raven!” “Her flowering scents so pleasant,” “Golden-haired the raven!” “My mind about a treasure,” “Golden-haired the raven!” “My fortune is her pleasure,” “Golden-haired the raven!” “Lost I am you see?” “Golden-haired the raven!” “Sun-ray crowned was she!” “Golden-haired the raven!” “Oh golden haired my raven!” Just before dawn, he sat up in bed, to look upon his new little girl. Shined-up his button eyes, and tilted his head… then snuggled back into her curls.
david-john-mowers
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Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 1:39 PM UTC
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