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From the beginning to the end
It's all those things in between
The good things and bad things
From the total you do glean,
The good things only
The bad things you put on shelves
Way back in the corner
In the darkness by themselves.

Then that thing called your conscience
That pesky little devil
That constantly reminds you
And in this he does revel
To keep your mind in a jumble
And those dark thoughts keep revealing
To keep you in a dither
And keep your mind a-reeling.

About that little lie that you told your mother
So long ago, I almost had forgotten
About the river
Yeah I do feel rotten
For that made up story
To keep from getting a whippin'
I wish I'd told the truth
About my skinny-dippin'.

I don't feel so bad
I'm sure that she knew
My hair was still wet
It wasn't from the mid-day dew.
She gave me that look
The one that says
That's a made up story
But I'll forgive you for today.


I could con my mother
But never my dad
He could tell if I was lying
This really made him mad,
I learned to tell him the truth
No matter what the consequence
The punishment was much easier
It's called common sense.

I've made it to almost eighty-years
Even though my life was tedious
I haven't done many things
That you would call insidious
Now I can clear my conscience
By telling each of you
I'm such a perfect person
Which has long been over-due.

Monte Manka-10-19-2006

Monte Manka can be reached at malamute@4malamute.com

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