Faking Dylan #9


The evening lawn is faded green

It looks like someone’s fairy scene

The dirty workmen lift the beam

Outside the runners hear a scream

I wish I’d never come to go

Upon the willows in the snow

The sergeant major makes a throw

And wonders “how long will it flow?”


I wouldn’t take a ride in that

The puppies and the little cat

Are tied together in a raft

And all of them are wearing hats


All day long the children look

For Indian hatchets by the brook

One sharpened stone was all it took

To make it perfect, like the book.

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