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From a Voice Plantation

It

Who no longer can listen

It

Saw a gusty windCome up to listen

Before I was ten

and all of the evil grids

From a hill where rats considerAnd they gang

And they topple

And they send a smoke ring

Into the onion field

A ghost!

And this can make you choke

Coming from the throat

Of a ghost!And sent to my weak knees

From a voice plantation

All in together

In terror

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