The Touch of The Masters HandTwas battered and scarred and the auctioneer.Thought it scarcely worth his while.To waste much time on the old violin,But he held it up with a smile.What am I bid, good folk he cried.Wholl start the bidding for me A dollar, a dollar now two only two Two dollars, and wholl make it threeThree dollars once, three dollars twice,Going for three but no
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November 2017
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