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Carved In Stone
Here lies Bea At a hundred and three
In the place she vowed She’d never be
She always swore She’d never die
Till all who bugged her
In the grave would lie
She hung on tight To the very end
No foe was left For flowers to send
Let’s raise a glass And shed a tear
She sure raised hell while she was here!
Copyright©2004 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved
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