Sundays Too My Father Got Up Early / And Put His Clothes On In The Blueblack Cold - / Then With Cracked Hands That Ached / From Labor In The Weekday Weather Made / Banked Fires Blaze. No One Ever Thanked Him.

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1. Sundays Too My Father Got Up Early / And Put His Clothes On In The Blueblack Cold - / Then With Cracked Hands That Ached / From Labor In The Weekday Weather Made / Banked Fires Blaze. No One Ever Thanked Him.