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His face could turn a stomach,
Don't look, you'll turn to stone.
His beastial eyes are jaded,
His brow will make you moan.
Children run in terror,
Housewives duck and hide.
Whenever he's in sight,
His presence people chide.
"Go 'way," the crowd would tell him,
"Don't bother to come back."
Good Lord, he's so damned ugly,
His face could stop a clock.
Spurned by all good people,
Hated and despised,
Feared and loathed so strongly,
There was no compromise.
But who would stop and listen,
Take time to look and see,
This man was harshly chosen
By fate's hyperbole.
His mask was not of evil,
His heart was pure not black,
His mind was sharp and able,
His manners were intact.
His days were spent in anguish,
Alone and vilified.
Although he's so downtrodden,
He never lost his pride.
Society had shunned him,
So what, he made his way.
The animals all loved him,
And this was his mainstay.
Every creature knew him,
Those both great and small.
On land and sea they sought him,
And gathered to his call.
He sat amongst them gaylie,
Conversed as you or I,
The birds all flocked to see him,
Like angels from the sky.
He walked with bears and squirrels,
He stood with dogs and cats.
The hamsters would come closer
To have a moment's chat.
All of God's good creatures
Knew this person well.
They made his life worth living,
Where man had made it hell.
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