A song

.

There is a song that is old, that is new,

There is a song that is cold, that is wet,

One made of precious hard gold, heaven’s brew,

One that is, though often told, hard to get,

Melody many times fold, life and death,

Harmony at the threshold, one more breath,

Oh giving strength to those bold and those not,

They, who break out of the mold or are wrought,

A tune that has long been rolled, mouth to ear,

A tune all witness unfold, there to here.

.

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