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The Blues of Shoes

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Oh woe is me
To watch and see
To be jealous of coveted size three

I hang from my shelf
More quiet than an elf
Lonely as can be

My box clean, my laces tied
I hang from on high
Oh woe is me, to say goodbye
To lament the faces and to cry

For so is the fate
With neither love nor hate
Of size twenty-five



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