I Have Written Some Poetry That I

The Buffaloes Are Gone. And Those Who Saw The Buffaloes Are Gone.

The Squeaky Wheel Gets The Grease But The Quacking Duck Gets Shot.

The Moon Is A Friend For The Lonesome To Talk To.

A Liar Is A Liar And Lives On The Lies He Tells And Dies In A Life Of Lies.

I Take You And Pile High The Memories. Death Will Break Her Claws On Some I Keep.