  all the time i walk around this sit down campfire lusting life and picture tale the cotton sails that may have former use in time the reminisce comes splosh splash splish and happy fills the heads of every one of these circlers,  a fire for their interest so silent in the sunk and slosh that captures every day we tread our feet as heavy as the grass permits an indent lay and simple sicked up nowhere rhymes and tickle round our tongues until the rain comes hailing sounds to bless us,  every one.
