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In The Great Picnic
Even the sad violets
Somehow cry for joy

As windy flowers
And flowery winds blow still
In endless new loops.

The boys want to steal
The magic picnic perfume
And then give it back

To steal once again
From smiling picnic girls who
Pretend not to see

As they set out fruits
Never too ripe nor rotten
Bitterfresh yet sweet

On a sunny day
On that blue plaid picnic cloth
That we know and love.

And with all that said
Where can a guy get a beer
In this part of town?
28th June 2021