the old creaky wood held by poles dark and frail
clouds bright and majestic as the sun that will never fail
the dark corral beneath the sea
the exact opposite of a tree
this is where you flee from the cold and chilly
warm inside with some skilly
feel the soothing breeze
blow away a sneeze
The wonderful creek through the wood
the wonderful sound sounds good
in the wind you stood
just because you could
in a little hut
where the wood gives you a cut
when its time to go
there will be no more flow
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