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jumpin the broomstickRosie jumped the broomstick upon a frosty morn whilst birds were singing in the trees and wishes all twer born a frog he croaked his story and the springs did run on bye there twer squirrels a rushing up the trees and a lonesome tramp passed by there twer days of merriment and gay long afor the days of war when soldiers fought for what was right upon old Flanders shores they fought for king and country then with rifles tall n mean n bored there were sparrows in the hedge grow then and the pots were full of beans n more the vardos were so splendid with steps up to the doors twas a splendid scene with ornate lamps and tapestry like you'd never seen afore the dogs were barking down the lanes where heathers stretched to Poole where local men and gentle folk all said howd ya do the mushers went to market then and the gaffer took you in with jobs for the lonesome vagabonds and pennies to buy your gin the markets were full of hectic pace and all loud hawkers cries there twer rows of clothes and stalls of cows and things to catch your eye the church bells chimed and the groom did sigh as he kissed her on the green where wild roses grew upon the trees and the past was left behind Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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