Under poof-lined high, peace-blue skies
I hear a dull cry, a rising diminuendo
That does dispoil, due dolefully air,
Wi' a rare uncommon dispairing flair
Now harmony ruptured, wi' rascalry blare
At daft dirging sadness sooOh unfair
I rudely wrought, do duefully bear
M'self up to me feet, all quiverishly—
To sweep down tha hill, ta quiet th' one.
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