There are two men at Sesame Street
Those that pass by chance to greet
One is a shoe-shine, the other washes your feet
And if you ever stop to tell
which of them is good and which is well
The horror would make your eyes swell
And when you see with incredulity, you could play blind
What bitter truths and better gifts are there to find
Should you have the instincts, your course be well-defined
And if by the end, you have the secrets learnt
Remember that these would be better burnt
From the two strangers that Sesame Street haunt
i dint get quite getthis poem
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