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While searching through my childhood dresser, I stumbled across some old poems that I had written back in the eighth grade. Some were okay and some were, well, “cute,”as my teacher put it. One thing is for sure, however, they shouldn’t be seen by human eyes.

But, this is how much I love you all. So, may I present to you for your viewing pleasure, a poem from the vault, as written by a 13-year-old Leroy Brumage.

Enjoy!

Squirrel Hunting

I’m going squirrel hunting,

I’m going squirrel hunting.

Oh joy, oh joy,

I’m going squirrel hunting.

I got my gun,

I got my gun.

Oh joy, oh joy,

I got my gun.

Where’s my boots?

Where’s my boots?

Oh man, oh man,

Where’s my boots?

I got the net,

I got the net.

Oh joy, oh joy,

I got the net.

Hey, what’d you say?

No squirrel hunting today?

Oh man, oh man,

No squirrel hunting today.

-9/21/01

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