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Cuban Bread | ||
| Loaf on loaf of Cuban bread Leaves the giant kiln of brick. People waiting to be fed Know that it won't make them sick. Every day at break of dawn When the sky is glowing pale, Comes a man across the lawn, Hanging bread upon the nail. It's a tender starchy treat, So delicious in the mouth. It is always good to eat, East, or west, or north, or south. | ||
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