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Poem	The fisherman's swapping a yarn for a yarn Under the hand of the village barber, And her in the angle of house and barn His deep-sea dory has found a harbor. At anchor she rides the sunny sod As full to the gunnel of flowers growing As ever she turned her home with cod From George's bank when winds were blowing. And I judge from that elysian freight That all they ask is rougher weather, And dory and master will sail by fate To seek the Happy Isles together.
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