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grandma poem

gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
les cieux qu'ils étaient ashen et sobre
la nuit était noire et triste
là où je trouvez-vous
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
dans leurs regimentals loqueteux
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
je dois dire bonne nuit
peut-être ce n'est aucune matière que vous êtes morte
dans le port de New York
et mon nom est véridique

 



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