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JUNGHEIMER'S

IN western fields of corn and northern timber lands,
     They talk about me, a saloon with a soul,
     The soft red lights, the long curving bar,
     The leather seats and dim corners,
     Tall brass spittoons, a nigger cutting ham,
And the painting of a woman half-dressed thrown reckless
     across a bed after a night of booze and riots.

 

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