Singalong Tree
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Lithe wispy leaves and twig-branches
Underneath the Poet sat on his haunches
Along came a ever so slow breeze
Knotty stiff-old knees & eternal wheeze
Hazy eyes which never ever lies
O'er the tree the nightingale flies
He perches on a tender branch
A worm or two he picks for lunch
With clouded eyes the poet sees
Knotted knees the night's song frees
As the Singalong's leaves sway
In the youthful summer breeze