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'Tis all the seasons marks that scar my brow,
And he so young but sees me like that now,
He'll not imagine how I may have been,
When like an Eagle I did soar the scene,
For none 'tis true can visualize a past,
Where old men young did rally round the mast,
But Ah, that now we lads do not compete,
I can praise his strength and his lightning feet
And he can look upon me truly proud,
And boast of his old Pappy to the crowd,
And when we are together, just as friends,
And he slows up to please me and pretends,
I'll know that he is as I used to be,
A lad of substance and total dignity.
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