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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Nov 2013
Pay day
The wages of sin,
though they pay pretty well
are what locks us in
and makes this life a hell.
The vicar was looking at me,but
she couldn't know I was thinking of taking her out on the town,
I was drinking her in.
Ah
the wages of sin,
I shall pick them up Friday
after I've had my wicked way
with her.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
69/Here and now
(69/Here and now)
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