Old Afghanistan

POEM
Oh how good was old Afghanistan
How good was the old frying pan
The smell of trees
Combined with the bees
And no bomb smoke in the air
And how we rocked on the old rocking chair
The peaceful city with sunlight on women’s head
But now how rusty are our beds
Oh how good was old Afghanistan
How good was the old frying pan
How the children played at school
And how internet was so cool
I can’t wait for the old Afghanistan
And for the old frying pan
Oh how good was old Afghanistan
How good was the old frying pan


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