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WHY IS YOUR FACE SO WHITE MOTHER? |
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WHY DO YOU CHOKE FOR BREATH? |
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O I HAVE DREAMT IN THE NIGHT MY SON |
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THE BLOOD VOTE |
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THAT I DOOMED A MAN TO DEATH |
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WHO DO YOU HIDE YOU HEAD MOTHER? |
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AND CROUCH ABOVE IT IN DREAD? |
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IT BEARETH A DREADFUL BRANCH MY SON |
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(AN ANTI CONSCRIPTION POEM FROM THE FIRST WORLD WAR) |
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WITH THE DEAD MAN'S BLOOD TIS RED |
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BY W.R. WINSPEAR |
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I HEAR HIS WIDOW CRY IN THE NIGHT |
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I HEAR HIS CHILDREN WEEP |
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AND ALWAYS WITHIN MY SIGHT |
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O GOD THE DEAD MAN'S BLOOD DOTH LEAP |
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THEY PUT THE DAGGER INTO MY GRASP |
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IT SEEMED BUT A PENCIL THEN |
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I DID NOT KNOW IT WAS A FIEND A GASP |
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FOR THE PRICELESS BLOOD OF MEN |
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THEY GAVE ME THE BALLOT PAPER |
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THE GRIM DEATH-WARRANT OF DOOM |
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AND I SMUGLY SENTENCED THE MAN TO DEATH |
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IN THAT DREADFUL LITTLE ROOM |
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I PUT IT INSIDE THE BOX OF BLOOD |
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NOR THOUGHT OF THE MAN I'D SLAIN |
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TILL AT MIDNIGHT CAME LIKE A WHELMING FLOOD |
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GOD'S WORD AND BRAND OF CAIN |
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O LITTLE SON O MY LITTLE SON |
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PRAY GOD FOR YOUR MOTHERS SOUL |
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THAT THE SCARLET STAIN MAY BE WHITE AGAIN |
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IN GOD'S GREAT JUDGEMENT ROLL |
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