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I remember how we sat there,
While Mother made the cake
And how we stole the raisins
On the night she used to bake.
The time is now a memory
From nineteen twenty six,
When all the world was poverty
Except that precious mix.
Just before she stirred the mix
I used to make a wish.
That this night was going to be my turn
For licking out the dish. |
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