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My Darling Crossbow And Thy Quarrel

My darling crossbow, how you shine,
Your stock of wood, your bow of horn,
The catgut forms the bow's sweet twine,
The quarrel soon becomes skyborne.

You stand so tall, as tall as me,
When I was but a stripling lass,
And all the world that I could see,
Was hidden by the sassafras.

I'll guard you well, and keep you safe,
And you in turn will keep me too,
And when the nasty goblins strafe,
I'll pull your trigger and they'll shoo.


Comments? Suggestions? Send me mail!
ewcenek@acm.org