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Prelude Of Day
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Prelude Of Day

A street doth lift its foggy cloak
Outs the cars that hum and drum
Sends off the hurried working folk
Shoos the children with grisly glum

Begins the birds sound of song
Lets the wife clean with mop
Weaves the grass in the lawns
As she wipes the kitchen top

The children come back full of glee
Ever pondered to what to play
To mums who sigh in what they see
Dirt and dust in which they lay

That'll be the end of day

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