THE WINTER DRUMMER
O! The
winter flap
That blows
on my little harp
Stories of
old
With the
fortunes that mould.
Never in
array of despair
Just
blowing on all in bestir
What!
I love to
feel the drumming.
Remove your
strings old man
Both
raincoat of disdain
Never on
strings, Never on drums
But with
winter breeze he adores.
The drummer
The hummer
The hummer
waits the drumming
The drummer
watches for an uproar
O! Its
winter again.
So our eyes
see
The old
drummer
O! What a
longing fortune in the winter
The feeling
of the strings with the drummer.
The
Friday poems on ALPHASOARS
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