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(edited) 1 Can't recall my conception's true hour, My reminiscence must be lopsided. I was cooked up in sin, after dark though, And saw light not until it was time to. I was born not in throes, nor in malice: After all, 't was nine months not nine years. In a womb, I thus served my first sentence; There's nothing attractive down there. God's messengers, I'm very glad You spitted mold and breathed upon, So, finally, my Mom and Dad Made up their mind, and I was born To dark and inconspicuous times, Today, as old as fabulous, When sentenced to enormous times Were counting halting places off. Some, rousted on the cook-up night, And plenty had already been, And yet to think they're still alive, My good old honored kith and kin! 2 Forward, vigorous thoughts! Forward, dear! Have your say, dear lines! Have your say! It's the first time that I, by decree, Had been freed in 1938. I
