Sitting on the front porch, The sky is clear outside,
The day is drawing to a close,
It's almost evening-tide.
The sun is going down,
A ball of fire all of red,
As it sets behind the mountains,
We all head in to bed.
The birds are singing sweetly,
As the day does die,
It seems that to the listening ear,
The world has breathed good-bye.
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