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Nursery Rhyme XVI



Four and twenty blackbirds,
and me with no pie:
each is a tear
born of my eye.

I run through the town
and try to salt their tails,
but all of my tries
resolve themselves as fails.

I knock on the door
of Jack's old house,
but no one lives there,
not even a mouse.

My credit's no good
with the Pie Man now:
I must eat soon,
though I can't see how.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.