As I breathe my last sigh,
Not knowing where to hide,
I pray that my last vine,
does not twine,
I say to the swine,
go get me some wine,
and boy did he find,
the best brew that tasted so fine,
I am at the end of the line,
on the grass I sat and dine,
on my last grime,
and you shall hear no more rhyme
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