Thirty

Thirty street urchins, faces dirty....
Thirty outstretched hands....
With thirty tin cups,
With thirty over-active glands,
Looking like thirty sad faced pups...
All thirty pounding at my door
All thirty begging, "Please, sir, more!"
That's what I get, as I hand out
Thirty dimes,
For reading David Copperfield
Thirty times!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2008

Poem

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