This is my gift to you, do with it
whatever you will. It contains
some of the world's beauties. Not much
really, just one or two notes not too
much out of tune. A red-breasted robin
checking on little children the week
preceeding christmas day, a few dead
memories of times gone by, maybe
some muted words from people past.
This is my gift to you.
Go on, get rid of it,
chuck it, bury it at the end of the garden.
And remember, this is my gift to you,
do with it whatever you will.
