From England's Green and Pleasant Land 
  Robin Hickman

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 Billy's Book

For seventy-six years
He carried that book
Billy never put it down
The spine was broken
The cover torn
It was old and tatty
The pages worn
But Billy loved that book
Like it was his only son
Do you like my book
He'd say to everyone
As he wandered around the town
That old torn book
Was the only thing
That mattered in Billy's life
No brothers or sisters
Or friends to speak of
He'd never taken a wife
When Billy died
There was no one there
To say a last goodbye
Just his book beside him
In his lonely grave
Never read
Waiting for Judgement Day.


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