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What with Johnny Cash dying and George Bush in the White House, all in the same season, and my son moved out to Utah, all the news is bad news. I hate to hear it. I don't know how I'll get by. Everything I see—a run-down trailer, a house in the woods, squirrels scalloping lightly across a dusty road— makes me cry. And all the time Tm wondering who's going to hum me out of old graves; who's going to sing me a train rolling by; some prison walls for my spirit to climb? With all that's gone on this summer and autumn, what Tm wanting most— with how many minutes to go?— is a new novelty song, one that makes me laugh at my same old jig at the end of this same old rope. -E.D. Pendarvis 99 ...

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