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The Hard Man
Ramrod straight and true blue
With just a gaze he would look right through
He could tell those who were weak
And were hiding something to secrete
He would walk into a room
And would turn the jukebox to his tune
Always sitting with his back to the wall
Drinking his beer slowly was his call
The stories told were of tough men
Who could use their fists in the end
But they could never beat him in a fight
So he would go and do whatever he would like.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Copyright ©
Paul Warren
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