The Song (-a poem)

A long time ago in a land not far
there lived an old man who played the guitar
He’d play and sing together, he had a pretty voice
He played all through summer time for children with no toys
He lived in a little hut a mile away from town
He said that there was joy in the hills all around
He played his guitar and sang all day long
He loved to watch the little birds and sing the hill a song
One day it so happened, that a wind came his way
And as he held his precious guitar, the wind took it away
The man thought for a moment, and then he gave a nod
“Now the wind has a song,” he said, “so I’ll just sing along!”



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