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The happiest man in England rose an hour before the dawn;
The stars were in the purple and the dew was on the lawn;
He sang from bed to bathroom—he could only sing “John Peel”;
He donned his boots and breeches and he buckled on his steel.
He chose his brightest waistcoat and his stock with care he tied,
Though scarce a soul would see him in his early morning ride.

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+1 # Hildreth McCarthy 2011-05-09 15:36
Always love a stirring poem and Will knew how to write them.

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