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It doesn"t come itself.
It doesn’t come itself .
The bluey black silhouette of grandpa,
Smoking his umpteenth cigarette,
Could be seen at the bottom
Of the garden.
He sat alone with his dog.
The rowdy household were
Still celebrating the christening,
But he just wanted peace.
At four score years and five
He had had enough partying.
Anyways, he needed time
For his trousers to dry.
