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Jacks Back

In all the ones we've known,
There has never been another,
Then that we call Jack,
Carpenter, beggar or brother.

Strolls through the alley
Forgetting his dime,
And seeks us out solely,
One peddle at a time.

With nothing to offer
But a smile or a jingle
Or a story of Lore
Old since forgotten

The day grows dark
No real want to shake him
And he revels in reminding us
We're still gravely mistaken

Our love so endearing,
His pride we daren't pluck,
For wasting the time,
With his opera and such

And at the days end,
Whilst the working has foil,
Jack sits back and grinning,
Over his fifth pint of free oil.


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