My Fiddle (poem)

My rosin’s in a plane
Or maybe on a train
Either way it’s on the way
To me
My fiddle’s in the middle
Of a big old packing plant
And it’s unable to grant
Any big amount of talent
To me
But soon I’ll have my fiddle

Then I’ll be in the middle

Of a big old bluegrass band
With my fiddle in my hand.
Hooray!
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