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There is no gay laughter, nor ringing of sweet bells
As mourners flock through the crematoriums pillars
The sound of dress shoes is harsh in these cells
And the meats of black dress are sombre rib fillers
There are two smiles only in this room for the living
One for the sweet story of S(he) who is now free
The other is for knowing that Time is forgiving
From all our prison cells, Time helps us flee
The last view of the last cell in its last shell
Is bitter at first but sweet as Time allows
The black sheds to colour and rings the bell
And once more gay smiles grace our brows
Copyright rests with Stacey McPhail

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