(Sorry for the long break; we were out of town for a few days. Picking up now where I left off…)
A boy will be born in the garden
I’ll wait on a patch of green grass
Somehow he’ll know to find me there
And place a star upon my crust
We’ll trace the crescent’s rim
Pawn’s pursuit of deliverance
My soul a satchel for musical vim
Then I’ll return to save my race.
Oh, that’s what he was saying!
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