Grayson wrote this poem last year for a class he was in.
My name is Jethro Stevens.
I am seven years old.
I roll cigars to help out my mother and father.
It's gray and smoky in the factory.
That's not helped by the foreman.
He smokes three cigars that we roll every day.
He said once that it was to “check our work”.
But I think he just likes tormenting us.
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