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Once upon a time
When I was very young
I met a little boy
Who said he'd never sung.
"My v-v-voice is high and s-s-squeaky
And I s-s-stutter when I s-s-speak!"
Said the lad to me quite shyly
As he hung his head so meek.
I handed him a comb
And a piece of paper thin.
Then told him how to blow on it.
His face glowed with a grin.
Years later when I met him
His speech was smooth as silk.
His tenor voice was grand
And he handed me some milk.
He took my hand and smiled
And said, "My lady fair,
I have a comb for you
To place within your hair."
Another 20 years
I saw the man once more -
No longer was a waiter
But came knocking at my door.
"My lady friend, please meet,
My doctor son named Drew.
He's come to make you well
While I sing a song for you."
"How can I repay you
For your kindness Mr. Fred?"
"You did that long ago
With a comb for boy in red."
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