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On the west end of Wassokeag Lake we are plying the water we are waiting for the silence to break The trees are now turning, I smell the leaves burning They tell me the county line runs right through here Above in the vapor now speckled with insects They tell me the county line runs right through here And under the water the last lights are leaving On the west end of Wassokeag Lake Then up from the marshlands the loons come a piping |
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