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Poetry

King David

Ruddy

And with palms strained from playing

The guitar

He walks home with the happy flock

Gentle was his walk

Joyful was his apparition

So he recalled his adventures

The songs he sang under the Sycamore

The bear he expelled

And the lion he killed

Diligently he led the sheep

Guiding them

Without knowledge of his training

For God had anointed him King

And his sheep was Israel