Billy, in one of his nice new sashes, Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes; Now, although the room grows chilly, I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy. (Harry Graham (poet))

Billy, in one of his nice new sashes, Fell in the fire and was burnt to ashes; Now, although the room grows chilly, I haven't the heart to poke poor Billy.

Harry Graham (poet)

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ash billy burn chilly fell fire heart nice now poke poor room

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