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Song (Free verse) by Christof

The pigeon in the elder tree And the baby in her bed Sing to each other and neither cares Which words are unused, which truths unsaid. She speaks for the joy of speaking, The pigeon nothing less, And we dare despoil their purity With elocuted bitterness.

Ranger 18-Jul-07/4:40 PM
Yesterday I officially became a Gradu-ate and the ceremony was splendid apart from a trinity of babies who managed to set up some sort of crying rota well in advance. As soon as one of the little fuckers had bawled its tonsils out another would pick up the chant with added smugness. So I must disagree that any baby speaks merely for the joy of speaking; it is more clearly for the joy of interrupting a solemn and dignified event.




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