"He sat at the table. The odor of frying bacon and boiling coffee drifted to him from behind the curtain. His mother's voice floated to him in song.
Life is like a mountain railroad
With an engineer that's brave
We must make the run successful
From the cradle to the grave....
"The song irked him and he was glad when she stopped and came in the room with a pot of coffee and a plate of crinkled bacon."
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