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Distant trains still sound alarms, Blinds are drawn, people yawn, It's time to call the day. The sun's turned off, The moon's turned on, The stars like pinholes Blink till dawn. The animals are bedded On the farm; Beneath this counterpane we're warm. Today our work is done; Tomorrow worries not begun. But tonight I'll sleep Like the seventh son.
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Apr 22, 2024
Apr 22, 2024 at 9:06 AM UTC
Good-Night, God
Distant trains still sound alarms, Blinds are drawn, people yawn, It's time to call the day. The sun's turned off, The moon's turned on, The stars like pinholes Blink till dawn. The animals are bedded On the farm; Beneath this counterpane we're warm. Today our work is done; Tomorrow worries not begun. But tonight I'll sleep Like the seventh son.
francie-lynch
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Apr 22, 2024
Apr 22, 2024 at 9:06 AM UTC
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