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By Paddy Mulhern
The leg of the chair
Supports the chair
All day long,
And even at night
When we all sleep tight
The leg of the chair is strong.
It doesn't care
Who sits on the chair
Humble rich or great,
And if they're away
For a week or a day
The leg of the chair will wait.
It's content to be
With the other three,
That soldier by its side,
And if they're weak
Or tend to squeak
It does not try to hide.
There will come one day,
Maybe far away,
A rest for the leg of the chair,
And on that day,
God may say,
It was I who was sitting there.
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