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Who lives here, In this shack, In a dead end corner, By the bayou's edge? A funeral bier, Drapped in black, With a weeping mourner, Behind the overgrown hedge. I pass as a sightseer,
Who lives here, In this shack, In a dead end corner, By the bayou's edge? A funeral bier, Drapped in black, With a weeping mourner, Behind the overgrown hedge. I pass as a sightseer,
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