Things Just Keep A Turning Round Poem by Madrason .

Oll' man, little dog,
lots of books and a steel guitar,
the blues stashed in a bar,
just returned from war.

Comfort from music,
the past is today,
children out singing to play.
They went on for school,
won't be no ones fool.

Tuning for the right notes,
bringing in Obama's votes.
grey hair almost looks like a feather,
we still hope that things will be better.

While Things just keep a turning round.

The sun is whitely gleaming
on large cotton-bales like houses
and we just keep on dreaming;
of a future much better, for spouses.

But Things just keep a turning round.

'Home sweet home America, falling in love with Jesus! '