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The Bat Cave There is a cave, where evening brings The sound of wildly beating wings And bats emerge, in clouds, to fly Like drifts of smoke against the sky. The insect world had best beware, Ten thousand bats are in the air! All night they swoop and sometimes squeak, But when the sun begins to peek Above the far horizon, they, All hurry back, to spend the day, Asleep and wrapped in capes of brown, In clustered closeness, upside-down. |
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