  In my old Savannah garden, There roses and jasmine grew And many sweet for-get-me-nots Of lovely shades of blue. Japonica's waxen blossoms Of purest white and pink, Wistarias with honey cups From which the bees could drink. Sweet old-time shrubs whose odors Filled all the sun-kissed air And many another beauty Of "Flora" was found there; So one would think that garden A place of pure delight, But, alas, not so since Tom Cat |
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