There was an old man
Who lived in a mill
He built it himself
On the top of a hill
But when the wind blew
It wouldn’t stay still
And one day
The hilltop
Was empty
It’s a very long time since a ditty dropped into my head
ready made. The fact that it isn’t very good is immaterial. It matters to me.
And it probably means something, but that’s for others to decide. They always
do.
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