Mournful cry echoes
o’er frosty hill and hollow:
Vixen screams out the season.
~
That vixen you heard
might have been me proclaiming
I had turned seventy eight.
Mournful cry echoes
o’er frosty hill and hollow:
Vixen screams out the season.
~
That vixen you heard
might have been me proclaiming
I had turned seventy eight.
That would mean I’m… gasp… fifty six?!?
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