A Most Peculiar Man

A most peculiar man (p. simon, 1965)He was a most peculiar man.That’s what mrs. riordan said and she should know;She lived upstairs from himShe said he was a most peculiar man.He was a most peculiar man.He lived all alone within a house,Within a room, within himself,A most peculiar man.He had no friends, he seldom spokeAnd no one in turn ever spoke to him,’cause he wasn’t friendly and he didn’t careAnd he wasn’t like them.Oh, no! he was a most peculiar man.He died last saturday.He turned on the gas and he went to sleepWith the windows closed so he’d never wake upTo his silent world and his tiny room;And mrs. riordan says he has a brother somewhereWho should be notified soon.And all the people said, what a shame that he’s dead,But wasn’t he a most peculiar man?

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