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And, like I said, winters are harsh.
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And old Elias, well, he didn't believe in new shoes,
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until the old ones were worn through.
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Honestly, Mrs. Travers,
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the snowdrifts, sometimes they were up over my head.
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And we'd push through that snow like it was molasses.
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The cold and wet seeping through
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our clothes and our shoes.
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Skin peeling from our faces.
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Sometimes I'd find myself sunk down in that snow,
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just waking up,
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because I must have passed out or something, I don't know.