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Perhaps I'll never see the old hill again
Or hear the robin sing in the wind and the rain
Old friends like me are many years past their life's prime
We all are mere mortals and become victims of time.

Far from the old fields where I daydreamed of fame as a poet
I never did become one worthy of note
An ageing poetaster my better years long gone
And only the lust for life keeps me keeping on.

Perhaps I'd feel like a stranger in my old Hometown today
Few would recognize me I've been too long away
From places where I was well known and time on none does wait
To re-kindle old friendships it now seems a bit late.

Perhaps the old Hometown I will never more see
And few living there now would recognize me
I left when the old river bank high did flow
And the cold winds of Winter soughed in the hedgerow.

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