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A Song / Poem For The Aged

Aged,wrinkled woman hands holding a walking stick
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The aged rise. It is the blue sound of glory
They are lonely in the streets
But they are more than a thousand shekels
They are priceless in advice and
good in telling the truth
The aged and beard arise
Let the world clap their hands
And let the sound of rejoicing be in the streets.
You will not die because you are aged. Death shall fear the youth and
death shall fear the aged
You will never die ’cause you are so hairy and an aged person


Poem, Prince Akogo

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