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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:06:13 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 108348
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => The Quambatook Football Club
[time] => 2005-10-24 02:13:13
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Dusty fields from eye to eye, dead trees too weary to die or care that we pass heading north, amongst battered fences of stones. A smile. A worn hand to take yours in embrace; worn and weary, but strong. Welcomes you to the field, a field of green in defiance of the dust, In memory of the trees. Roots run deep around here. Strap on your armor Lads,here they come! Dont forget to limber up, charge the foe and raise those colours high! A worn hand smiles, hands you a cold beer. A slap on the back and a good laugh, makes the miles seem like a pleasant jaunt. And the Rain, finally reaching the fields of dust in the shadow of the great trees, sounds the requiem, falling on tin roofs. Worn and weary, but strong. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 551 [topic] => 51 [informant] => Spudda27 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Event )
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