My hair hung, covered my pierced ears. An' the
Way 'tis curled in the back of my weary neck,
(It) reminded me o' Winter: she treated
Me swell, indeed. Better than Miss Summer;
Though, I must admit, she done her best, yes.
But her wishes only brought me sorrow.
Nonetheless, I shall greet t'morrow with-
Out dwellin' me too much o' yesterday.
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