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On Christmas Day

I was born adrift on Christmas Day,

the earth was stiff, the clouds were grey.

’twas not easy, to keep the thieves at bay:

I was profligate on Christmas Day.

We were both adrift on Christmas Day,

our fetters swift, and shiny and gay.

You never did keep those miracles at bay:

we were born again, on Christmas Day.

You were bored to death on Christmas Day,

your arms were stiff, you went away.

You must’ve let the paupers play:

you were stoned to death on Christmas Day.

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