Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests; snug as a gun. My grandfather cut more turf in a day Than any other man on Erris Once I carried him milk in a bottle Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up To drink it, then fell to right away Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods Over his shoulder, going down and down For the good turf. Digging. Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it.
Dashboard
Stats
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Active TimezoneUSTZ
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Intel Profile
PlaystyleSolo (0 kills)
Avg Fleet: -
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