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The Rooster's Tale | ||
| This page invites a facile pen To soar o'er marshes, moor, and fen And let the heart a tale begin. A rooter crowed at break of day, So proud that he could strut and play. He thought that all would go his way, But soon he heard the hen complain: "Get out and get me some fine grain." And worst of all, he felt some rain. Oh well, he said, this is a blow. I still to work will gladly go. There might be rain, but it's no snow. | ||
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