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A Cabbage Patch

 Folk ask if I'm alive,
 Most think I'm not;
Yet gaily I contrive
 To till my plot.
The world its way can go, I little heed, So long as I can grow The grub I need.
For though long overdue, The years to me, Have taught a lesson true, --Humility.
Such better men than I I've seen pass on; Their pay-off when they die; --Oblivion.
And so I mock at fame, With books unread; No monument I claim When I am dead; Contented as I see My cottage thatch That my last goal should be --A cabbage patch.

Poem by Robert William Service
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