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You Cannot Sing
I like the fact you cannot sing
You cannot try to con me in
You do not need to hide behind
A hidden interest; ‘hard to find'
You do not need the neck to play
To pay for what you wish your way
You will never say it twice
Nor make beauty at truths sacrifice
You
Don't need sweet heated lines
To wake or bate my wide eyed pines
For you
My true who cannot sing
Has learnt to pluck a different string.
poem
by
Peggy Pollock
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