Totting from my hanging satchel,
Swings to and fro my vice.
Adorning my knap and my duffel,
Making them look nice.

They come in many shapes and sizes,
With colors of the rainbow, to boot.
Belonging from diffr’nt times and places,
The common man’s uncoveted loot.

Though such may be a burden to bear,
As too much can certainly hurt,
All those who see shall swear,
‘Tis greater than a love for dirt.

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