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A night of busking,
Two dollars earned.
It’s the beginning of another life
And the way of the traveling man.
My table’s out with copies of my book.
And I lure them with song. Why?
Because if I don’t do it,
Nobody will.
By Jonathan McCormickA night of busking,
Two dollars earned.
It’s the beginning of another life
And the way of the traveling man.
My table’s out with copies of my book.
And I lure them with song. Why?
Because if I don’t do it,
Nobody will.