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Annual Report



The gatherings are getting smaller
As we all gradually age
The children procreate slowly
So we are at the turkey crown stage
With not half so many roasties
As we cooked at the last
Large bottles of sweet white
Are long a thing of the past.

We drink a toast to those gone on
Since we all last met
And to the newest member
Not quite aged one yet
We try to part with happy words
For all to start the coming year
And we wonder who'll be missing
Next time the family gathers here




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