"Sweet Apple Tree that pleasantly grows,

Whose fruit I once stole to please a fair maiden

When, with sword on my thigh, stout shield on my shoulder,

Alone I slept in the woods of Calydon.

Beneath its branches I began softly to fade,

Dreaming that around its' trunk I quickly played

With a sweet enchantress of most splendid form.

And since then for ten and forty years

I becam...

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the banksy blues single....poem

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