The Goat


Who is it, when my prayers are said,

Eats the shingles off the shed,

And licks the window near my head?

The goat


Who is it, when the clothes are flying

On the line, left for drying,

Eats the whole wash without trying?

The goat.


Who is it, when the fishes kind,

Swim a mile my hook to find,

Rushes at me from behind?

The goat.


And when from wordly things I flee,

And seek relief in Masonry,

Who meets me all in mask of black,

And winks his eye and bows his back?

The goat





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