It's always the old to lead us to the warIt's always the young to fallNow look at all we've won with the sabre and the gunTell me is it worth it all.
Hungry gentry now pillage, maraud as they please, In the barn Baptist greatly beasts' numbers decreased 'Sprinkling' heads of two oxen, two calves and one goat, While Razor his sabre sank deep in each throat. Awl, with his rapier, also ran up to their aid Sticking old boars and piglets below shoulder blade. Now death threatens the poultry – the geese, alert flocks, Which once saved Rome from Gauls in the dark climbing rocks, Vainly cackle for succour; no Manlius will come...
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