“You not from ‘round’ here, are you?”         Sam turned to find a brown-haired mousy little girl peering over his shoulder.  “How would you know that?”         “I ain’t seen ya before.  That means you...

A flock of sailing fiddlers flyDown flowing fountain in the skySeven-fold they fair my eyeAs life so faintly passes bySeven-fold the fearless fliersFinger through the fiery breeze,Symphonic plumage ever whiterFeathered phantom melodiesFlying, flying, never dyingTo each, the cool breeze...

I've known 1,000 crooks        read 10,000 books        still like my whiskey with sour        took 500 aims        at my 5,000,000 blames        as I sit all...