The mountain boy

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Draped in rags,

And an old cycle tyre for a toy,

He wandered the fields,

He was just a mountain boy.

 

Bathed in the river,

He reared cattle.

And talked to birds,

In his voice so gentle.

 

An investigating mind,

He chewed on wild berries.

A content heart,

He was free from worries.

 

Often, he wondered,

If birds could fly, why couldn’t I?

He was full of questions,

He was just an untamed mountain boy.

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