Posted by 0--l-- on 3/20/2003, 3:54 pm The milkman smiled his head off, once, in song Poor milkman, as they swarm in wanton play
195.93.34.13
The songs the milkman whistles on his rounds
Are just the songs he leaves on my door step
And when the milkman whistles, he has found
The birds to talk amongst themselves in pep
He whistles songs he writes inside his head
A diffrent one each time from home to home
His whistling to the birds, it seems, had bred
Amongst them fear that they might turn to stone
He brushed it off and fastened it back on
Now when the birds see him strolling along
They sense their siren calls will have him won
He lacks the flute that makes them go away
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