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Click hereThere's seven miles of good road to the east,
seven bad to the west, and bears.
Southbound there's seven times seven,
fractured roadbeds through limestone hills,
running t'ward the flatlands from whisky stills
like cracks in shattered ice.
Nothing to the north save a river, not very deep,
safe enough when the weathers dry, no eye
for the highway of the pioneers, canoe's are cheap
plenty of room for jugs between the seats.
Float on down when the moon is full and high,
pockets dry as the sky, cloudless
I'd take the west road. Those damn bears wouldn't stand in my way. Or I'd get them too drunk to come after me. I'd be a bearshiner, instead of moonshiner.
...I have no idea what I'm talking about. 5ed.
And magnetron posted I slapped my hand straight into my forehead and shook it!!! 5ed
Paddling and handling jugs ........... all this canoed'ling is making me thirsty.
Here is a a fiver to line your empty pocket.
PS: I hit 4 meaning to hit 5. Arthritic fingers this morning, if ratings mean anything to you.