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Poem
submitted by:
Margo Morton
Crane Lake, Alberta, Canada
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Lord, if you can find some room to
spare,
Where the grass is lush, the water
clear,
Please open the gate and take him there.
You'll know him by his cocky eye,
The
pride in his stride, his tail up high,
He'll be in the lead, he always was,
The
head of the line, that's what he does
And
if on a cold and bitter day
A
bit of oats you could send his way,
I'd
be forever in your debt,
You
know it's not without regret
I
send him to you this day,
And
Lord, never doubt,
His
dues have been paid
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